Blackened Blue Eyes
by HappyValentina
Summary: New Directions has Blaine now. There is a new teacher. Kurt and Blaine are taking their relationship to the next level. But not much has changed for Dave Karofsky. Rated T for language, violence, and sexual references.
1. Chapter 1

_My second fanfiction. So proud of myself._

_I've been working on this for like a week, but the concept has been whirring around my mind for weeks, since I've been reading so many spoilers for the rest of the episodes left on this season of Glee. _

_This is kind of a fast-forward to the third season, which starts at the beginning of the following school year, right? And we all know Blaine is coming to McKinley (even though no one in the cast wants to confirm it yet). I've gotten some of my favorite couples together; this doesn't follow one person's point of view in particular, but a general overview from everyone. It's a bit funny at times, I hope, and often rather dark and dramatic. But I'm really looking forward to posting the resolution. There is a resolution._

_There's also an original character in this one. Not a member of New Directions, don't worry. Not romantically linked to anyone, either. Just a character I wanted to include to help some things along, to be a sort of doppelganger for me to inflict with my opinions on the characters and the events. But she's not based on me, she's actually based on two friends of mine. No, this character is nothing like me (in a way). But I hope you like her._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, names, places, etc. It all belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened Blue Eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

Dave really couldn't catch a break.

He used to be a good student, and popular, and he had a bright future. Now he vaguely remembered feeling happy ever in his life, or at least feeling anything else but miserable.

Everything seemed to be working out so wrong for him lately, it was like the universe or whatever conspired against him. And to make matters worse, it seemed everyone hated him.

He couldn't even walk down the hallways anymore without coach Sylvester breathing down his neck. She was always warning him about being careful around porcelain. He wasn't even sure what she meant by that.

But it didn't compare to the nasty looks he was frequently getting now. He realized eventually, the dislike came from a whole lot more people than just the fourteen members of the Glee club that he so frequently tormented. Others who used to scramble out of his way or cower in fear, now just ignored him or scoffed at his presence; they even threw things at him, like paper balls and bits of eraser, during class, when the teacher wasn't looking. They mocked him now. They could no longer stand him.

And the more they disliked him, the angrier he became, and he could barely repress it.

He hated this school and he hated this town. But most of all, he hated that he felt that way.

And all because last year he made the stupidest decision of his life, and everything had changed for him.

He had kissed a guy.

And he couldn't remember ever feeling so many things at once. Confusion, for the most part. And fear.

Things seemed to reach a boiling point after that; he did more stupid stuff, unable to control his frustration, the fear of someone finding out.

He knew he deserved what came his way. However, when he was expelled from the school, somehow he had felt relieved. Even screwing up his personal records was put out somewhat by the fact that he wouldn't have to stay at McKinley. He could start over somewhere else.

But his father wouldn't have it; Paul Karofsky would not accept to have his son expelled for violence. And he forced him to appeal to the school board, lay out his case, and fight for a chance to make things right. The decision Dave dreaded the most was the one that the school board ultimately made.

Once he came back, he felt like he had been branded. He could just feel it: questions, speculations whirling around him relentless. Dave felt persecuted. His teachers seemed to keep a closer eye on him. His teammates didn't hang out with him the way they used to. And everyone started mocking him.

And when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the first day back from summer vacation, he saw him.

That Dalton guy.

Enrolling at McKinley High.

The prospect of running into him every day made him feel slightly sick.

He saw them that first morning, in the bustling hallways, just before first period. Marveling at how close their lockers were; laughing at something or another. Some of the members of Glee walked by, and greeted him enthusiastically. Then the bell rang, and they closed their lockers and headed together down the hallway, hand in hand.

Dave groaned, and shut his locker with a loud bang. He couldn't believe he'd have to put up with this shit for an entire year. It would be a very long year.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry that was kind of short. But more coming tomorrow. <em>

_I changed the title of the story. It was originally called "With a little help from my friends" because this is a story mostly about Kurt, and since Kurt has already sung two of my favorite Beatles songs, I wanted to use a Beatles song title. (It's relevant, it's a little uplifting, and it does a good job at setting the tone for the story (in my opinion). Just picture Kurt singing it. Like I do. :) _

_However, I changed it to "Blackened Blue Eyes" (from the title of a song by The Charlatans) because I realize I will be making constant references to that. Not the song, but the words. I thought it also did a good job of setting the mood for the story. _

_As a side note, I haven't decided if the events of the Born this way episode will somehow affect what I've already written. I'm actually almost done with the story, and I don't know if I want to change the major plot lines to accommodate what happens in the series. If you have an opinion about that, let me know. In the meantime, I'll try to get this story up as fast as I can._

_Thanks for reading._

_-Vale_


	2. Chapter 2

_Second chapter. The story is coming along just fine... I think..._

_I should clarify that some of the couples here might not be stated so clearly, because it's mostly a Klaine fanfic, but my shippings are Finchel, Sam&Quinn, Puck&Lauren, Tike, Bartie, and Wemma (with a hopeful Brittana). It should be obvious in the coming chapters, tho. _

_I also really hope that you like the new character. She means no harm, just a few chuckles._

__Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, names, places, etc. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox._  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>Blackened Blue Eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

Meanwhile, there was a new substitute teacher in William McKinley High School.

Her name was Melanie Rococo. She walked into the building, cigarette in hand and and a look of uncertainty on her face. She was decked in an oversized striped t-shirt, cut off shorts, black Doc Martens and sunglasses. Not exactly how most teachers dressed; no one would think she was a teacher, and that was the point. It was embarrassing enough that she would, at 22, be back in her hometown, teaching in her old high school. If she could fool most people into thinking that she was just another student, then the whole experience would be a little less mortifying.

"_Bonjour, j'e suis Melanie Rococo, j'e suis votre nouveau professeur de francais." _

She looked around at the disinterested faces of her students. Most of them just stared at her in confusion.

"Yes, I know. But I am the teacher," she said, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Miss Moreau is going to be away for a while, so I'll be taking over her French lessons until her return."

"What happened to her?" one girl asked.

"Did coach Sylvester push her down a flight of stairs or something?" a boy joked.

"Or poison her?" another one added.

"Or mess with her car breaks?"

The teacher stared blankly at them. "No, she's getting married and she's going on her honeymoon," she replied. "Wow, I'm really looking forward to meeting coach Sylvester now. Thanks, kids," she added.

"By the way, you can't smoke in here, Miss Rococo," an obnoxious girl said, pointing to a no-smoking sign next to a fire extinguisher near the door.

Melanie took one last drag from her cigarette, then proceeded to put it out on the girl's desk. "Sorry," she said. The girl looked appalled but decided to shut her mouth. Apparently Miss Rococo was more no-nonsense than she expected.

First period wasn't so bad, but it was amazing how apathetic some of these kids were. And it made Melanie realize she wasn't cut out for teaching. She just couldn't care enough. What's the point of teaching these kids to speak french when they can barely speak english properly? She wished that she could make them understand how brilliant it is to learn a foreign language, to open the mind to so many experiences, new ways of seeing things.

But right now, all she wanted was to get through the next two periods and take a cigarette break. This was starting to get on her nerves. Coming back to McKinley was a really bad decision. But for now, there was no turning back.

* * *

><p>She stepped out into the sunlight. The bleachers were full of students lounging around and playing music. She glanced around and did a double-take.<p>

Standing near the top of the bleachers was a boy with perfectly coifed hair, a blue jacket, and skintight jeans that disappeared inside a pair of designer boots. He laughed with a dark-haired boy, dressed in a red sweater and a striped shirt underneath, both looking very chummy.

She took off her sunglasses and raised an eyebrow, and a smirk appeared at the corners of her lips. She shuffled over to the railing, leaned against it provocatively, stuck her chest out, and smiled seductively at the pair.

"_Bonjour, monsieur_ Hummel," she breathed hoarsely.

The boy turned and saw her, and stared. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"Melrose?"

"_C'est moi._"

"OH MY GOD!"

Melrose dropped the act as he pulled her into a hug and laughed.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were living the glamorous parisian life," he asked.

"I was, but I needed a dosage of home. This will always be my home. And I missed you, you're my best friend and my only family," she said with a shrug, as if not wanting to sound too sentimental.

Kurt turned to the dark-haired boy. "I'm sorry, this is my boyfriend, Blaine. Blaine, this is my best friend forever, Melrose. You remember I told you about her."

"Nice to finally meet you," Blaine shook her hand. Melrose looked at him from head to toe and smiled.

"I'll say... _mon Dieu_, Kurt, I know you told me your boyfriend was cute, but that's kind of an understatement, don't you think?"

Blaine tried not to blush. "Thank you. Did he mention that my boyfriend is very cute too?" is all he could say before he burst out laughing. It was Kurt's turn to blush.

"You guys are adorable. Now stop it," Melrose said, shaking her head. "You might just give me a toothache."

"Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm your new french teacher."

Kurt's eyes widened again. "Are you serious?"

"I know, it's a bit weird, isn't it?" she said, and turned to Blaine. "I'm actually the one who taught him french years ago, when we were neighbors."

They sat down at the bleachers, and Kurt and Melrose told Blaine everything about meeting when they were nine and fifteen; how they met not long after Kurt's mom passed away; how Kurt was teased a lot by the other kids in the neighborhood, until a french girl named Melanie appeared, with combat boots and recreational smoking, kicking them all to the ground for messing with someone so defenseless; how Kurt used to make macaroons for the strange girl who saved him from the bullies and how the girl was fascinated by this cute little kid with fabulous style and excellent cooking skills who was all alone all the time.

Melrose didn't have any friends at the time either, and she spent most of her time by herself too. She attended Carmel High at the time, and she hated it there, the students were like sheep, and she just didn't fit in. Back home, her parents neglected her, and when they divorced and her father disappeared, she just thought 'one down, one to go', because she couldn't wait for the day she wouldn't have to deal with either of them ever again. But at least she would have Kurt.

They baked together, they listened to music together. Kurt taught her about musical theater and skin care, and Melrose taught him to speak french and greet people with two kisses. They had weird tea parties in Kurt's garden, with real tea and biscuits, and wearing weird hats and headdresses, and they would dance around and make weird videos on Melrose's camcorder. And Burt would watch them, and roll his eyes at this girl's antics, but at the same time he liked her and how she became Kurt's friend when he most needed one.

They became her surrogate family. She would do anything to stay away from her own house, and she found a home with this little boy. She was always there to defend him from the bullies, and he was always there to relieve her from her solitude.

"And Kurt gave me the name Melrose."

"Oh, I thought that was your real name," Blaine said.

"No, he just put together Melanie Rose. He said that I needed a proper artistic name for when I became famous and conquered the world," Melrose explained, and pinched one of Kurt's cheeks affectionately.

"Meanwhile, she just calls me 'Fluffy', which I can never use as my artistic name and she still won't come up with anything better," Kurt shook his head disapprovingly.

"I wasn't gonna bring that up because I thought I might embarrass you in front of your boyfriend, but since you already have..." she trailed off and smiled. "I missed you, Fluffy," she added, pulling him into a hug. He kissed her on the cheek.

"I missed you too."

* * *

><p>Will Schuester grabbed his lunch bag and headed for his usual table in the teacher's lounge, where Shannon Beiste was already sitting.<p>

"How's the new school year been treating you so far?" Beiste asked as soon as he sat down.

"I'll get back to you on that one. Still three periods to go, and I'm holding Glee club auditions today. I'm bracing myself for a lot of backlash from Rachel Berry. She hates newcomers," he answered, pulling out his sandwich. He was about to take a bit, when a redheaded girl walked in, carrying a deli bag. She looked around for a bit, and when she spotted him looking at her, she headed for his table.

"May I sit here?" she asked with a friendly smile. Beiste politely said she could, while Will only continued to stare.

"I'm Melanie Rococo. I'm a substitute teacher. I was hired to teach Miss Moreau's french class," the girl said, pulling out a salad.

"I'm Shannon Beiste, I'm the football coach."

"Beiste, that's french, isn't it?"

"Yes," Beiste said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you. And you are?" the girl turned to Will.

Will put down his sandwich. "You're a teacher?" he asked, disbelieving.

The girl rolled her eyes. "I know."

"How old are you?"

The girl glared at him. "How old are _you_?"

Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's just... you look very young."

"I get it," the girl said defensively. "I am young, but I'm old enough to be a teacher at a public school. Look, it's embarrassing enough as it is, so please don't bring it up again or I'll find a way to publicly humiliate you in some form, cuz that's how it's done at public schools."

She popped the top of her salad open and started eating. Beiste had to hide her grin behind her fork. Will looked down at his hands in shame.

"I'm so sorry. I just... I didn't even know we were having a new teacher, and I guessed it surprised me that it was you."

The girl said nothing.

"I'm Will Schuester, I'm the Spanish teacher and the director of the Glee club," Will held out his hand. She looked at it and grudgingly shook it. Then she turned back to her salad, and an awkward silence fell on the table. Beiste cleared her throat.

"Why did you say it was embarrassing enough?" she asked.

Melrose sighed. "Because I used to go here, as recent as six years ago."

"Six years? That makes you twenty-two, right?" Will said.

"Will you quit it with the age thing? Yes, I'm a 22-year-old substitute teacher working back at my old school. I get it, 'oh what has become of my life' and all that. I had a life until recently. I came back here to remind myself that I can be anything I want, and this is just a phase that I'm going through. Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going through a bit of a crisis, and I guess if I'm going to have a quarter-life crisis, I might as well go home and ride it out here. And the only reason I accepted this job is because my best friend goes here. I thought it would be nice to have him close by again."

"Your best friend?"

"He's a student. His name's Kurt Hummel."

"Kurt's your best friend? He's one of my students, and he's in my Glee club."

"Oh good, so you know him. Congratulations. I hope you're good to him."

"Well, he is one of my best students. And a great singer, too."

"Really? Well, he tells me that he barely gets a chance at solos. That he even left the school because of it."

Will stopped chewing and frowned indignant. "'As noth thrue," he said through a mouthful of sandwich.

"I'm kidding. I know why he left. But he tells me everything. And if I hear about you giving him a hard time, I'll be doing that public humiliating thing I told you about earlier."

Will swallowed and tried not to laugh. This girl was feisty.

"So how did you two meet?" he asked.

"We were neighbors back when he was nine, and he got bullied a lot by the idiots in our neighborhood, and I kicked their asses. I spent most of my time with Kurt and his dad, they were more of a family to me than my own family. Then I graduated from here, and I packed up and left. I lived in New York for a while, and lately I've been in Europe. I was living in Paris until recently, but I always kept in touch with Kurt. I hadn't seen him in years, tho, so it's really nice to be back."

"So you're a teacher?" Beiste asked.

"I'm a writer, actually. And a part-time actress and musician. And I do freelance photography. Sometimes I paint."

"Is that all?" Will asked with a chuckle. "And is your real name Rococo? Or is that just an artistic name?"

Melrose laughed. "Melanie Rococo is kind of my identity. Rococo is the first syllables of my middle name and both my last names. My father's surname is Covey, and my mother is Comte. Since I didn't feel like I was attached to either one of my parents at all, I decided to build my own from the pieces left of theirs. But Kurt has called me Melrose ever since we met, and so I consider that one my true artistic name."

She munched on another forkful of lettuce and looked at them.

"Is the interrogation over?"

Will and Beiste exchanged looks and shrugged. "For now," Will said. "Welcome to McKinley. Beware of the cheerleading coach in the red tracksuit," he pointed across the room. Sue Sylvester was leaning against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee, and looking intently at Will's table.

"Is that the famous coach Sylvester?" Melrose asked, looking at her and giving her a wave and a smile. Sue didn't move, but continued to stare menacingly. "She seems lovely."

"I think she'll be fine," Beiste said and continued eating. Will finished his sandwich and nodded tentatively. He did hope so. Melrose somewhat reminded him of another substitute teacher, and he thought it would be fun to have her around. As long as Sue Sylvester didn't somehow scare her away.

* * *

><p>The first two weeks of school were basically going back to normal. No one auditioned for the Glee club except Blaine, and he was almost an instant abductee. Rachel wasn't too happy about it, though. He was, after all, a really good singer.<p>

Will regularly had lunch with Emma, Melrose and Beiste, and he kept asking them for suggestions for what to do differently this year with the Glee club. Melrose only said she hoped he was a better teacher than creepy Mr. Ryerson.

"Wait, you mean you were in Glee club?" Will asked.

"For a while. But that guy made me leave, he's such a freak. Though I have to admit, being in Glee club here was more uplifting than in Carmel High."

"You were in Vocal Adrenaline?" Will's eyes widened.

"I called them Vocal Androids. They're just a bunch of fabricated choir kids with too much energy and not enough imagination," Melrose scoffed. "I once heard them butcher Queen's 'Don't stop me now', I swear I could hear Freddy Mercury grinding his nails against the walls of his coffin."

"Well, they've creamed us in the past, so I wouldn't underestimate the power of putting on a good show, even if they just act like robots."

"But you guys are good now, aren't you? Kurt told me about last year's Regionals competition, how you beat the Dalton Warblers when he and Blaine were there. He said you were amazing."

"Well, we were, but we're still growing," Will said, trying to sound modest. His eyes lit up. "Do you want to come see?"

Emma nearly dropped her grapes.

"What for?" Melrose asked, looking like he had just offered her worms for dessert.

"You've been in Glee club, you know what it's about. You can give us pointers, give us a different perspective. You might give us wisdom that you learned from being in Vocal Adrenaline, and perhaps we could use it to beat them this year."

"Oh, like I have nothing better to do with my afternoons than sit through a class I don't even teach?"

Will looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I guess it does sound kind of boring."

"Wait, I didn't say no," Melrose added quickly, holding a finger up. "Cuz, unfortunately, I have nothing better to do with my afternoons. Oh! I'll hang out with Kurt!" She sat up excitedly.

Emma looked at Will for a moment, at him smiling at the new teacher. She had seen that look before. Trying not to think too much about it, she looked back down at her grapes and popped a freshly-cleaned one into her mouth.

* * *

><p>Another week started. The kids were falling into step with their classes and Glee club.<p>

It wasn't long before Blaine got his very first slushy facial.

Like winning Nationals had done absolutely nothing for their reputation, their level of popularity, or anything positive at all, their newest member had to endure the tradition of terrorizing Glee club members.

Or maybe it was because he was gay. Or both.

"Oh no, Blaine!" Quinn exclaimed when she and the rest of the group walked into the choir room that afternoon, and saw Kurt dabbing at the red stains on his neck with moist cloths.

"It's fine. Kurt washed most of it out already. But my clothes are all sticky," Blaine said, gesturing to his now cherry-pink dyed white shirt.

"Who was it?" Sam asked. Blaine hesitated for a moment, glancing at Kurt. Kurt didn't meet his eyes.

"Karofsky," he finally said. Puck clapped his hands on his thighs and huffed.

"Then it's not only because you're in Glee club now, but also because you're gay. I say we tell Principal Figgins," he said.

"Yeah, we totally should," Santana echoed.

"It's fine, guys. He's just..." Blaine trailed off. "You guys say this happens all the time, especially to the new ones. It was bound to happen, whether Karofsky did it or not."

"I never got slushied," Lauren said.

"I still say we should do something, tell someone. I mean, he's got a history of homophobia," Rachel pointed out.

"If he threatened to kill Kurt once, he could very well do it to you too," Finn added.

"I don't think that's the case here," Blaine said simply, hoping that would finalize the subject.

"Blaine, I can't believe you're defending him," Rachel retorted.

"I'm not defending him. I just don't think it's necessary."

"Well, Kurt found it necessary to transfer schools last year. I'd say that's a pretty big alarm."

"It's just a slushy, Rachel," Blaine said, starting to get angry.

"It's only the beginning, Blaine."

"Rachel, would you just let it go?"

Rachel, and everyone stared at Kurt in shock. He just sighed and went to put the used moist cloths in the bin. "I for one would appreciate a year without drama. Can we just cool off in the retaliation?"

"Is everything okay?" Will Schuester asked, coming into the classroom, followed by Melrose.

"Everything is fine," Kurt said, returning to his seat.

"What happened to you?" Melrose asked, looking at Blaine up and down.

"Nothing, it was just a slushy," he replied.

"Oh _Dieu_, I remember those," she said.

"You used to get slushied?" Will asked.

"I was in Glee club, wasn't I?"

"You were in this Glee club?" Artie asked.

"Six years ago, when it truly sucked. Got slushied almost every week."

"Yikes."

"It's fine. After every slushy, I made sure to put generous amounts of superglue on all my bullies' locker dials. Hurts like a bitch. I got even every day, and they didn't even know the culprit," Melrose said, looking like she was reminiscing something pleasant.

"Wow, that's evil," Mercedes said.

"Oh, I sometimes put it on the seats in class. I once superglued half the football team to the bench." She grinned. "Needless to say, they lost."

"Could you join Glee club? We could use you," Mike said with a wry smile.

"Ha, I'd love to, but I'm a teacher. I'm just here to give you pointers," Melrose replied, taking a seat beside Kurt. "Of all kinds," she added, and rubbed her hands like a cartoon villain.

"Easy, Joker, you're not teaching my students to be pranksters," Will warned.

"It's not pranks, it's revenge, Mr. Schue," Puck said. "It's putting an end to this."

"End? Oh, I still kept getting slushied. I just didn't mind so much anymore," Melrose clarified. "It was the look on their faces when they realized they had to either take off their pants or walk out of the classroom with a desk stuck to their asses." She grinned again.

"In any case, that's not going to improve anything," Will said.

"Well, we've tried everything," Rachel said, "from talking to intimidating, to using brute force, as Sam's eye might remember," she gestured to the blond football player, "we even tried joining the Glee club with the football team, and none of that worked."

"Wow, that's a lousy idea. Who came up with that?" Melrose asked. Will shot her a look.

"The point is, we're willing to try anything. Giving them a taste of their own medicine might just be it," Rachel finished.

"Guys, I think that's the worst idea," Will started, and he pointedly looked at Melrose. "You'd be playing at their own game. You'd become bullies yourselves. That's not the way it's supposed to go."

"Well, someone's going to reach a boiling point someday and it's going to be even more dangerous," Puck said. "You've heard of school shootings, haven't you? I'm not saying it would be one of us, but we're not the only ones who get picked on here at McKinley. Some kid with no friends might decide he's had enough and go through his veteran grandfather's arsenal. If we have a chance to stop it, then we should."

"It's not the way," Will insisted. "We can take this up with Principal Figgins, and we can work something out. For now, could we focus on New Directions? Miss Rococo here used to be in Vocal Adrenaline too, and she can share some insights with us, so we can bring our A game to the next competition..."

While Will continued to talk, Melrose turned to Kurt and Blaine, who looked forlorn. "I want details, later, please," she said seriously. Kurt looked at Blaine, and they both nodded.

* * *

><p>At the end of the day, the members of New Directions spread out in the parking lot, each walking to their cars or leaving with someone. Finn kissed Rachel goodbye and ran ahead of Kurt toward the black Lincoln Navigator.<p>

"Finn, I'm driving. You might kill another mailman."

"I did not kill the mailman!"

"Whatever, I have the keys," Kurt said, dangling the keys. Finn slowed down in resignation, and Blaine snickered.

"I'm sorry you got slushied," Kurt said.

"It's fine. I think I was mentally prepared for it already, thanks to you. So it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'll see you tomorrow," Blaine said, and pulled Kurt into a kiss. It was brief, but sweet, and they were both suddenly in a much better mood.

"Get a room," Melrose said with a smile, passing them toward her own car. "Bye, boys."

They both waved as she back out or her parking space and drove away.

"Come on, Kurt, I'm hungry!" Finn shouted, leaning against the car like an anxious little kid.

Blaine walked to his own car, and Kurt watched him, until he was sure he was safely in. It was a habit he had developed. He then walked to his car, and he and Finn headed home.

Dave, who had a habit of staying later at the gym lifting weights, on afternoons when there was no football training, headed for his own car finally, after staying in the shadow of the building until everyone was gone.

* * *

><p><em>Feeling good about this. Hope you're enjoying this so far.<em>

_I promise this fic has a point._

_Thanks for reading. _

_-Vale_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three, finally. I've been busy and very tired, and a little sick. But I'm moving forward._

_This makes some references to the last episode of Glee, "Born this way", which was totally awesome. Tonight it's "Rumours", and I'm hoping I can build something from that one too._

_Sorry if this chapter seems a bit too sugary, but I really wanted to set the mood for some of the characters. I hope people aren't annoyed by Melrose, she's kind of a butt-in. But she means good._

_I also really enjoy writing Furt brotherly love. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, names, places, etc. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

Dave slammed his locker shut and sighed. He had not been sleeping well since school started. When he turned to head to class, Santana Lopez was right in front of him. She looked unpleasant.

"What the hell?" she asked.

"Oh, hi," he replied, trying to go around her and on his way. He knew what she wanted. An explanation.

"Why did you slushie Blaine?" she asked in a low voice, following him.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," he said lamely. That was a terrible comeback. It would only piss her off further.

"Oh really? Do you want me to shout something private about you right now?"

That stopped him. He spun on his heel, bracing himself to face her.

"I meant to say, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," he mumbled, not very sincerely.

"We had an agreement," she started, practically fuming. "You leave us alone, and I don't tell the world that you're a pathetic homo curled up in the closet scared to death."

"You're one to talk," he snapped back.

"Well, I'm not as pathetic as you."

Dave almost winced at her words. "I said I was sorry."

"You haven't answered my question," she said.

"Shit, I don't know, Santana. I guess I can't help it sometimes."

"You know that's not an excuse. And believe me, the only reason I didn't just blurt the truth out after seeing Blaine covered in cherry stuff was because I have my own end to this deal."

"Okay, it won't happen again."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Why can't you just accept it?"

"I'm not ready," Dave replied almost automatically, as if he'd said that line so many times that it was the default response. Santana shook her head.

"I meant about... why can't you just get over it and move on?"

"What?"

"Kurt's taken. Get it inside your head." With that, she started heading the opposite way. Dave frowned.

"That's not even close, Lopez," he practically shouted after her. But she didn't look back at him once. Dave stood there, flustered, and let out a lengthy breath before continuing on his way to class.

* * *

><p>"Wow," Melrose said, sitting back in her chair in shock.<p>

It was the following morning, and she, Kurt and Blaine were sitting in Miss Moreau's office -which was now temporarily Melrose's office, as long as she substituted for the french teacher-, and they had just filled her in with details that Kurt hadn't dared to share with her over e-mails and phone calls while she was in Paris. He told her the real reason why he had left McKinley the previous year, and why everything was now much worse. All because of Blaine transferring here.

"And he threatened to kill you?" she said, sounding disgusted.

"Yep," Kurt nodded slowly.

"After he kissed you."

"Yeah," he made a disgusted face.

"And he won't come out."

"He clearly has a vendetta against the both of us. Especially Blaine, I guess."

"Or maybe he's jealous," Blaine contributed. "Maybe he wishes he could just come out, but he knows his reputation is at stake."

"Maybe his family wouldn't accept it? Could that be where the homophobia comes from?" Melrose asked.

"I don't think that's quite it," Kurt shook his head. "His father seems very nice, very proud of his son, and he seemed very upset and disappointed when he found out that Karofsky was being violent."

Melrose chipped at her orange nail polish. "Have you considered blackmail?"

"Melrose, don't be ridiculous," Kurt scoffed.

"I'm just saying, it could very well force him to face what he's so afraid to face."

"I'm not outing him. He's got to come to that decision on his own."

"A little blackmail would give him a little nudge in the right direction."

"No, he's just going to hate me even more."

Melrose shook her head. "I don't think he hates you. Like Blaine said, I think he might be jealous of how easy it seems to be for you, to be so comfortable in your own skin," she said.

"It's not like it was easy at all. I had my struggles coming to terms with it, and the fact that I had to come out to my dad and all."

"Yeah, but you were brave enough to do it. He doesn't even dare to try."

Kurt nodded in understanding.

"So that would explain why he instantly went after Blaine too? With the slushie and all?"

Blaine dissented. "I don't think that's quite it. He just dislikes me. He's jealous for other reasons."

"Yeah, it sounds like he might have a crush on you, Fluffy," Melrose agreed. "Why else would he kiss you?"

"I don't know. To get it out of his system? And don't call me Fluffy."

"Why should we rule blackmail out?" Blaine asked after a pause.

"Because it's cheap and inappropriate," Kurt replied matter-of-factly.

"You do it to Finn all the time."

"It's different. He's my brother; he's not out to kill me."

"Maybe I should talk to him," Melrose said.

Kurt and Blaine stared at her. She stopped tapping a pencil against her lips and looked apprehended. "What?"

"That's worse than blackmail. I told Karofsky I haven't told anyone besides Blaine about the kiss," Kurt said. "He might get angry if he finds out someone else knows now."

"You know, I think it's too soon to tell whether we might have to do anything about it. Maybe it's just my transfer, and he'll eventually get bored and forget about it," Blaine said.

"I doubt it would be that easy," Melrose answered.

"Whatever. We're not running away this time," Blaine said confidently, and looked at Kurt.

"I still say we should give blackmail a try. Just to scare him a little," Melrose suggested with a wry smile.

"Do you use those tricks on Thierry?" Kurt asked mischievously. Melrose rolled her eyes.

"His name is Terry. He's not French."

"Who's Terry?" Blaine whispered, leaning toward Kurt.

"The point is," Melrose interrupted, raising her voice just a bit. "I need you to tell me whatever happens, anything you feel is out of place, anything at all, you report to me. If you feel like you can't tell anyone, forget that, you can tell me. I'm not just your friend, I'm also a teacher here now, and I can help you in many more ways. Never hesitate to ask me for help," she stood up and walked around the desk and leaned against it, in front of the boys. "I care about you, boys. I don't want either of you to get hurt. Not under my watch."

"Thanks, Melrose," Blaine stood up and hugged Melrose.

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart. Would you happen to have an older brother who's straight?"

Blaine chuckled.

"Thank you, big sis," Kurt said, hugging Melrose too.

"Anytime, Fluffy."

"Don't call me Fluffy!"

"See you in French!" she waved at them as they motioned to leave.

"After you, Fluffy," Blaine said as he held open the door for his boyfriend, barely able to keep a straight face.

"Don't try to be funny, Anderson," Kurt warned him. The door closed behind them.

* * *

><p>For reasons unfathomable to both Blaine and Kurt, Santana started hanging out with them much more than she usually did. Not all the time, but she seemed to be there whenever they were walking down the hallways to class, or outside in the school grounds, or in the cafeteria. She didn't talk much; in fact, she seemed a bit sour, all week long. She was oddly nice to them too. It was almost completely out of character. But the boys didn't say anything about it. They didn't want her to get angry or feel unwelcome.<p>

Kurt liked Santana much more now. She had, after all, contributed to his return to McKinley, even though it was by manipulating Karofsky to apologize and starting the anti-bullying club. As much as she did it out of personal interest at the time, he appreciated it. Even though the Bully Whips had disintegrated, he appreciated her effort, and the fact that she had thought so highly of him to want to go through all that trouble to bring him back.

But he had never been able to have a heart-to-heart with her. He barely knew anything about her, in fact. What did she want now, if not just his friendship or his company? He made a mental note to sit down with her one of these days and have a chat. He had never shown her much gratitude for what she did, so maybe it was time to make a new best friend out of all this. Who knows, maybe they had much more in common than he expected.

* * *

><p>Friday night dinner at the Hummel-Hudson residence, Carole had made pot roast.<p>

"Ah, real food. Not attempted-cooked by me. I might be in heaven," Melrose said.

Burt had told Melrose to join them for dinner, since he hadn't seen her since she arrived back in Lima. Kurt was allowed to invite Blaine, and Finn brought Rachel. They were having dinner, and then watching films, and Melrose would spend the night, for old time's sake.

"You're all skinny, Mel, you're in need of two servings. And believe me, Carole makes the best pot roast." Carole smiled modestly as she set the food on the table.

"I feel like I'm in a lovely episode of Gilmore Girls," Melrose said. "Rory was a huge pot roast fan too," she added when Finn looked confused. He just shrugged in response.

"Mrs. Hudson... er, Hummel...?" Rachel said, putting her hand up as if she were in class.

"Please, call me Carole."

"Carole, I'm sorry, but... I'm a vegan."

Finn dropped the forks he was placing on the table and cringed.

"Oh, crap, I forgot," he muttered.

They had to wait a bit longer while Carole, Kurt and Rachel made a veggie dish. Burt mumbled something about having enough of vegetarian diets after his stroke.

"So where are you living now, Melrose?" he asked once the family and guests were assembled at the table.

"I have a tiny miserable flat downtown," Melrose answered. Burt frowned in concern, and she had to laugh. "I'm kidding, papa Burt, it's not miserable, but it is tiny, though not so much considering I don't have a lot of stuff in it. It's basically perfect for me now. Time to get rid of a bunch of stuff I no longer need."

"And what about that fellow you were living with in Paris, what was his name?"

"Thierry," Kurt said.

"Terry," Melrose corrected. "We're... kind of on a break."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Burt said.

"It's fine. It might be good," Melrose said with a wave of her hand. Kurt looked surprised. Apparently he hadn't known about that.

And as always, Burt slipped "the question" casually into the conversation -or as casually as he hoped he could be-:

"And how's school been so far, Kurt? Finn? Everything okay?"

The four kids looked at one another for a split second. Melrose kept her eyes on her food.

"Good, so far so good," Kurt said after a beat, so that the answer wouldn't seem so automatic. Finn jsut nodded in agreement.

After dinner, Burt, Finn and Blaine were in charge of doing the dishes, as they were immersed in sports talk, while Kurt, Carole, Rachel and Melrose set up a movie in the living room and waited for the other three to join them.

"All right, whose bright idea was it to watch Toy Story 3, for the umpteenth tortuous time in my life?" Melrose blubbered into a tissue while the credits rolled, and a chorus of sniffling seemed to agree with her. Even Burt and Finn wiped tears discreetly with the back of their sleeves.

The kids decided to watch another movie while Burt and Carole went to sleep; Melrose, the guest of honor, got to pick this time, and she chose "The Brothers Bloom". Rachel, already having seen it, fell asleep on Finn's shoulder halfway through the movie; Blaine offered to take her home when the movie ended, and so Finn, Kurt and Melrose headed upstairs to sleep.

"Incredibly creepy," Finn muttered, running into Melrose brushing her teeth in the bathroom.

"Get used to it," she said through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. She rinsed and grinned and went into Kurt's room.

* * *

><p>It was Saturday, and no one was awake yet. But Finn woke up earlier because his rumbling stomach wouldn't let him sleep in. He walked downstairs yawning, and stopped in his tracks when he got to the kitchen.<p>

"Hey, Fluffy's brother," Melrose greeted him quietly, from the breakfast table. She had pink plaid pajama pants, an Iron Man t-shirt, reading glasses and a serious case of bed head, and she ate from a bowl of cereal while skimming through a magazine that she probably nicked from Kurt.

"What?" Finn scratched his head and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to call you yet."

"You don't have to call me anything, except maybe Finn or Mr. Hudson, like every other teacher does," Finn replied, trying not to think of how awkward it was now to have to sit at the breakfast table with his french teacher.

"Fine, Mr. Hudson," Melrose said, and went back to reading an article. Finn brought a box of Cheerios and milk to the table, and grabbed a bowl and a spoon.

"Did you do the assignment on the french poem that I requested?"

"Okay," Finn put the cereal box down before he could pour himself any. "I can't do this."

"I'm sorry. I was just pulling your leg," Melrose laughed.

"It's so bizarre. I mean, it's Saturday and you're the french teacher, and you're in my house having breakfast, and you slept in my brother's bed last night, and I don't even know you. So excuse me if I find myself a little put off." He fidgeted with his spoon for a moment. "You know, I think I'll have my Cheerios in front of the TV."

He stood up and poured the cereal into the bowl, and just as he was adding milk, Melrose sighed and put down the magazine.

"Do you usually avert situations that make you uncomfortable instead of facing them?"

Finn huffed. "Look, I know you have your history with Burt and Kurt, but I wasn't there at the time, so I'm sorry if I'm uncomfortable, but I can't help it."

"I guess it's never been easy for you, accepting new people in your life, considering that for a long time it was just you and your mom," she said, tapping her fingers on the table.

"Are you a psychologist now?" he retorted, a little annoyed.

"Oh no, I'm just judgmental," Melrose answered.

"Why do I get the feeling that you've been talking to Kurt about me?"

"He always talks about you."

"He does?" Finn asked, a bit surprised. He got automatically defensive. "It's funny, cuz he's only mentioned you a couple of times."

"Yeah, well, I think he's been caught up in his own life, to talk so much about this old friend who isn't really there anymore," she said with a shrug.

"That's true," Finn said smugly. "Because if I recall, you weren't there when Burt was in a coma, or when he got married to my mom, or when Kurt was having a difficult time at school, so much that he actually had to transfer to another one, where he met his boyfriend, whom you just met."

Melrose frowned at him, as if she couldn't believe he was throwing that in her face, and Finn suddenly felt bad. "It's true, tho," he added sheepishly.

"I don't see why I'd have to explain any of this to you," she started, crossing her arms, "but if you must know, I had just arrived in Paris, and I had no money at the time. I was starting a new job, and had no savings at all. I couldn't just jump on a plane and get over here. And trust me, it weighs on me that I wasn't here. I don't need _you_ to remind me."

She got up with her now empty bowl and carried it to the sink.

"I'm sorry," Finn said after a moment. "I didn't really mean it."

"Yes you did. But it's okay, it's nice that you're defensive about them now. They're your family," Melrose answered, washing her bowl.

"It wasn't always like this," he admitted.

"I can imagine. As I said, Kurt always talks about you."

Finn swallowed hard, trying not to think about what this girl might think of him. He suddenly felt like he had to explain himself to her. She was a member of the faculty, after all, albeit a temporary one, but he didn't need her playing with his grades just out of spite.

"I mean, I had my life, with my mom, and they had their lives, and suddenly we're all cooked up under one roof and they expected us to get along right away, and it shouldn't work like that," he said, swallowing a mouthful of cereal. "It's like arriving at the movie theater when the film has already started, and I have to catch up on a lot of things in a short time."

Melrose's eyes widened. "Wow, that's a very eloquent way to put it... I wasn't expecting that from you."

Finn looked confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," she said with a wink. She sat back at the table, across from him. "I understand how you must have felt. I guess it would've been the same for me, but I think I was so eager to belong somewhere that I just adapted."

"Trust me, it's not easy for anyone; it wasn't even easy for Burt, and he's the father," she continued. "You know how men always say that they want a baby boy? The male who will carry on the family name, the one they can teach how to become a man and go through all these rites of passage like hunting and crap like that? The truth is, deep down, they also really want a girl; someone they can spoil and be protective about and kiss their booboos away."

"With Kurt, however, Burt didn't have any of the two," she shrugged. "I don't know if he and Mrs. Hummel ever tried having another baby, but Burt never got his princess either. So he had to work hard to change that mindset, and realize that Kurt was a great son, even thought not by typical standards."

"When I came along, Burt was learning to deal with that on his own. I think he was glad, like I was a welcome distraction. And I was just looking to fit in somewhere, so I was there as a friend. For both. Because they were both going through so much."

"And I think it's always pained Kurt that he's not the tough boy that Burt and every father would expect, but I believe Burt has done an excellent job of being the one who gives in, and accepting Kurt for who he is. Which is what a lot of people are not willing to do," she said.

Finn nodded in understanding, remembering with a pang what it was like when his mom started going out with Burt. So many things felt differently so suddenly, it was too much for him.

"I guess I wasn't willing to do that at first, either," he said. "But I suddenly really wanted a family, at any cost. More than just a friend, I think Kurt really became the brother I never had."

"That's what he said," Melrose said with a smile.

"Oh yeah, he didn't tell you I used to repel him?" Finn replied, biting his lip.

"Well, the important thing is that you don't anymore, and now you're there for him all the time. I think that more than makes up for it," she shrugged again. "Think about it; as difficult as it was for you to accept a gay friend, it was even more difficult for him to accept himself. To face the fact that he wasn't like most guys, and that he would have to deal with a lot of bullying and discrimination, maybe his entire life."

"And that's why I love him," she smiled again, "because I'm so proud of him for not hiding who he is, for not trying to change who he is for anyone, and for not letting anyone or anything bring him down."

Finn smile crookedly and nodded. "I think I'm proud of him too. We've all gone through a lot of crap, being in Glee club and all, but no one's gone through what he's gone through." He sighed. "I guess a part of me really wants him to win."

"Me too. Fluffy for the win," she raised a fist in the air.

Finn had to laugh. "Why do you call him Fluffy? It's nothing rude, is it?"

"Oh, it's silly, it's just," she began with a wave, "well, there was this punk girl band called Fluffy, they kinda sucked, but they had this song called 'Black eye' which was not so bad." She leaned back on her chair. "Anyway, one day Kurt and I got into a fight with these kids in the neighborhood, and he got his first black eye, but he also gave a black eye to one of the big guys. And, I don't know, later when we were mending our 'battle wounds', I started singing the song, and I called him 'Fluffy' and it stuck. I think I said that was his warrior name or something, and I wanted it to remind him of that feeling he got when he stood up for himself and won."

"But he still got a black eye," Finn pointed out.

"Like I said, 'battle wound'," she replied.

Finn swallowed his food. "Wow, I didn't know he used to get into fights."

"Oh all the time. He didn't know what he was doing," Melrose shook her head in amusement. "Neither did I, but somehow, we fought them off, and he actually gave one of them a black eye." She grinned proudly.

"That's awesome."

"Good morning, kids," Carole said quietly, walking into the kitchen suddenly, tying the sash of her robe. "I didn't expect you to be up at this hour."

"Hi, mom, I got hungry," Finn greeted her.

"Hi, Carole. I'm still kind of in Paris time, so I don't sleep much," Melrose said.

Carole walked over to her son and kissed him on the top of his head. The way she rubbed his shoulder, he got the feeling she had listened in on part of his conversation with Melrose. Melrose must have thought so too, because she winked at him and got up.

"How about pancakes, honey?" Carole asked Finn, as Melrose headed upstairs.

* * *

><p>Some time later, after everyone in the house was up and had their share of pancakes, Melrose was singing in the shower at the top of her lungs. Finn sat in his bed, listening to her rendition of Rihanna's "Only girl in the world", and laughed to himself, considering how inspired she sounded. She wasn't bad at all.<p>

She then launched into "Under pressure" by Queen and David Bowie. Finn couldn't complain, really. He sang in the shower all the time, too. He heard Kurt, in his own room, doing back up vocals. Finn doubted that Melrose could hear it over the noise of the shower, but it sounded pretty good as they harmonized with ease.

Finn thought 'what the hell' and started singing too, sitting at his drum kit and playing along. Suddenly the house was pretty loud for a Saturday morning. He wondered if the neighbors would call to complain, but he couldn't care. He decided the three of them sounded too good to stop.

"Bravo, kids! That was excellent. But could you please keep it down? I'm trying to watch the news and Mrs. Gable's dog won't shut up now," Burt called from downstairs when the song was over.

"Sorry, papa Burt," Melrose shouted back.

"Sorry, dad," Kurt shouted.

_Bum-de-kubbity-bubbity-kum_, went Finn on the drums.

* * *

><p>Melrose arrived at her flat a couple of hours later. She lamented having to check out of Hummel-Hudson hotel so soon, but she had stuff to do. It did nothing to quench her desire to stay and be babied, the fact that Carole seemed to have become attached to her, and even offered to cook her lunch and pack it for her.<p>

Dropping her bag onto the couch, she surveyed the current state of her apartment. Clothes still unpacked, boxes everywhere, bed unmade. The floor was dirty, the kitchen was inexplicable, and the fridge was empty and cavernous.

"Home, sweet home," Melrose sighed bitterly, plopping onto the bed.

* * *

><p><em>Hope that wasn't too long and droning. More action soon.<em>

_And yes, for other OK Go fans, there was a reference. I'm not sure if it was properly done, but I tried._

_And I have explained only part of the reason of the name of the story. _

_Thanks for reading._

_-Vale_


	4. Chapter 4

_Can I start by saying that Prom Queen baffled me and moved me to tears yet again? What's with Ryan Murphy and making me cry like a helpless little toddler? Why does he mess with my head so? It was powerful, shocking, moving, and so very entertaining. But no Klaine kiss? No Brittana? I'm kinda disappointed._

_Anyway, back to this fic here, I'm sorry for the lack of updates, it's just that every time I sat down to complete the new chapter, I would actually contribute more to future chapters. _

_Hopefully before the end of the week I can post something else, since I'll be very busy next week and I think I'll have to skip on updates for that one. But this one is a bit longer, so maybe that makes up for the future lack of updates._

_Disclaimer: Glee is owned by Ryan Murphy and FOX._

* * *

><p><span>Blackenened Blue Eyes<span>

_by HappyValentina_

On Monday, Kurt, Blaine and Melrose walked down the hallway talking, when they were intercepted by a tall figure in a red tracksuit.

"Hello, Porcelain, Pippin, Hobo-Bobo," Sue Sylvester said, greeting each one in turn.

"Hello, Saruman," Melrose said.

"Oh god, here we go again," Blaine murmured. Kurt face-palmed. Every encounter between the two female members of the faculty was either very funny or very scary. He recalled Melrose meeting the vicious cheerleading squad coach for the first time.

_"Ah fresh meat," was the first thing out of coach Sylvester's mouth when she encountered the three of them in the hallway on Melrose's second day. "Hello, ginger girl," she added, eyeing Melrose's dark red hair._

_"Hello... tall person..." Melrose replied with a confused look._

_"This is coach Sylvester," Kurt said, clearing his throat in warning. It had not occurred to him that Melrose and Sue Sylvester had yet to meet, and that it might not be pleasant, considering both were no non-sense about people they can't tolerate, and he had the feeling they would not tolerate each other much._

_"Nice to finally meet you. And with no flight of stairs nearby, thankfully," Melrose had said, holding out her hand for the other woman to shake. However, coach Sylvester only looked down at the hand and then back at the girl._

_"I don't have time for this. I'll make sure to make your life hell later," she said, walking around them and away._

_"I think I'm gonna like her," Melrose said with a nod. Blaine and Kurt rolled their eyes. Every encounter since then started with coach Sylvester delivering a few insults, while Melrose seemed amused, but you could tell she was holding her tongue._

"Wait, if you're Porcelain, and you're Pippin," Melrose said, pointing at Kurt and Blaine in turn, "does that mean I'm Hobo-Bobo?"

"You might want to start wearing clothes and not those tattered pieces of fabric you usually sport. All your tats are showing," Sue Sylvester said, nose scrunched up in apparent disgust. Melrose cocked an eyebrow.

"Fashion and style advice ironically coming from the woman who wears a tracksuit every day, everywhere, and agrees to have her cheerleaders wear dishcloth-sized skirts."

"She's talking back, oh my god. Red alert, red alert," Kurt said quietly. Blaine almost laughed.

"Listen very closely, _Rococo_, you're offensive to my eyes enough already. I hardly need more reason to want to punch you in the face. If you continue to pursue things with Will Schuester and his pathetic attempt to continue to make his little Glee club relevant, I will destroy you. No offense to the two-headed monster," Sue said, gesturing toward the boys.

"Do you ever pee on people to assert your leadership?"

Kurt pulled Blaine a few steps back, to keep out of range of any flying kung-fu kicks. Blaine stared at the two women transfixed.

"You have been warned," Sue finished, and walked around her toward her office.

The boys let out long streams of air, and Blaine whistled.

"That was ominous," he said as they continued on their way to class.

"Has anyone ever thrown a bucket of water at her, see if she melts?" Melrose asked.

"She does have that supernatural evil creature vibe going on," Blaine said.

"I suggest you check under your bed every night, just in case," Kurt said with a straight face.

"I can't believe she didn't throw you against the lockers after the peeing comment," Blaine pointed out.

"I can't believe she insulted my wardrobe," Melrose shook her head. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that's a shocker."

"I can't believe she's decided to nickname me Pippin," Blaine pouted.

"Well, he was the most adorable of the hobbits," Kurt said, pinching his cheek.

"It's a jab about my height."

"Well, if that's all she wanted, she could've called you dwarf, but I genuinely think she likes you. Meanwhile, I don't look like a hobo or a bobo, do I?" Melrose said, with a hurt look.

"She probably doesn't get you're actually a french hipster," Kurt said.

"I'm not a hipster either. I barely fit into that label at all. I eat crap all the time and drive a gas-guzzling beat up Volvo. If anything, I'm a hipster reject."

"I know, and I love you, and someday I will fix your penchant for chips and beer and cutoff shorts."

"I'm just glad you don't like Twilight," Blaine said.

"I have an idea," Kurt exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Why don't we go by your place tonight, and we'll hang out, and I'll help you sort through your wardrobe for things that would be more appropriate for a teacher to wear?"

"Am I gonna end up looking like Pillsbury?" she asked in a mortified tone, gesturing in the general direction of Emma Pillsbury's office.

"God, no, coach Sylvester hates her, more than she hates you right now."

"Why am I trying to please someone who hates me?"

"Because she will make your life miserable. You're already in league with Mr. Schue and the Glee club, I think she might be plotting something already to destroy you anyway. But this might get her off your back." Melrose said nothing, gave a little shrug, and just continued walking. Blaine and Kurt took it as a yes.

"I can't believe you're not protesting to me sprucing up your style," Kurt said in a fake shocked voice.

"Because I know you have flawless taste. And I guess it's about time I start giving a damn," Melrose shrugged again.

"That's the spirit," Blaine joked.

"I don't have that many tats," she said after a pause.

"I know, honey," Kurt replied. "But your bra _is_ showing."

"Oh."

* * *

><p>"Dude, the new french teacher spent the night in your house?" Puck asked before Mr. Schuester showed up and Glee club could get started.<p>

"When you say it like that, it sounds dodgy," Finn rolled his eyes, stabbing a piece of tomato. "She's like a daughter to Burt, as weird as it may seem to me."

"I understand, dude, but you've gotta admit, she's kind of hot," Puck said.

Finn didn't see it that way. She was cute, but she was mostly an opinionated butt-in. Rachel kind of stared at him, as if waiting for him to agree or disagree with Puck.

"I don't think she's hot. She annoys me a little bit, in fact," he told her to appease her.

"Hey, Big Bird!"

Finn rolled his eyes. Melrose showed up at that instant, followed by Kurt, Blaine and Mercedes. She hopped onto the piano while the other three took their seats in the raisers.

"Big Bird? Really?" Finn asked.

"I'm still working on it, but that's what I'm sticking to in the meantime," Melrose answered with a nod.

"That's worse than Fluffy," he said.

"That's because Fluffy is cool," Melrose pointed out. Kurt shrugged, unsure.

"Big Bird is a gay muppet," Brittany said. "I like the Cookie Monster."

"I like the Swedish Chef," Melrose replied.

"If you're gonna give me a nickname, it better be good. Steer clear of Muppet character names, please?" Finn asked.

"Since you ask kindly, I shall try," Melrose smiled. "For now, I shall revert to referring to you as Fluffy's brother."

"I don't know if that's any better, but I'll take it over Big Bird," Finn replied.

"See? She can be pleasant," Kurt joked.

"Silence, Fluffy," Melrose shot at him. Kurt snickered.

"Settle down, kids," Will Schuester said, walking into the classroom and looking pointedly at Melrose. "Okay, New Directions, we're already well on our way for this year, and I think the fact that there's now an even number of members again is a good sign, and perfect for our next activity."

"Mr. Schue?" Brittany put her hand up in the air.

"Yes, Brittany?"

"Can we do Muppet songs?"

Will raised an eyebrow questioningly. The others shook their heads dismissively, so he decided to ignore the comment. He grabbed a marker.

"Duets," Will Schuester said as he wrote the word on the whiteboard in big letters. "I think it's high time for another duets competition."

"Oh my god, what's the prize?" Tina asked enthusiastically.

"Please say 'Breadstix', please, please," Santana said. The rest of New Directions nodded and started claiming them for themselves. Kurt and Blaine simply grasped each others hands, as if to make sure they were going to be partners.

"Guys, if all you care about is winning a prize, then I might as well not tell you what it's going to be," Will said.

There was a chorus of protests, and Will had to shout over the roar.

"If you keep going, I'm gonna put all your names in a hat."

Everyone fell silent immediately. Nobody wanted to pick their duet partner at random.

"This is supposed to be work to improve ourselves and to improve our duet skills," Will continued. "The prize is supposed to be just an incentive."

"And will we have a vote like last time, or will there be judges?" Rachel asked.

"Miss Rococo and I will be the judges."

Again there was a chorus of protests, except from Kurt, who winked at Melrose, while she blew him a kiss.

"Mr. Schue, that would not be fair at all, she's biased. You know she's gonna pick Kurt and Blaine," Quinn said.

"Hey, if we win it's because we kick ass, and Melrose recognizes true talent," Kurt said. Quinn shook her head in disagreement, while Melrose made a gangsta sign.

"Fo shizzle," she said. Will huffed.

"Fine, I will ask Miss Pillsbury if she'd like to be the judge," he said.

"Wait, so I don't get to judge AND I can't participate?" Melrose pouted.

"Why would you participate? You're a teacher," Will asked.

"I was going to ask you to do a duet with me. I mean, we could do a number, as a demonstration," Melrose stated.

There were a couple of catcalls, and Will glared at his students.

"I think it's a good idea. You were saying that the purpose of the competition is to improve ourselves, that should include you, don't you agree, Mr. Schue?" Rachel proposed, gleaming at the two professors.

"I guess," he murmured.

"Wait, that doesn't mean that you two would be counted in the competition, is it? Cuz if that's the case, I want to partner with Miss Rococo," Puck said. Lauren elbowed him hard on the ribs.

"I just want to up my chances. She's got experience," Puck defended himself, wincing.

"Experience this," Lauren retorted, elbowing him even harder. Puck nearly fell out of his chair.

"I was just kidding," he groaned. "I love you, please don't hurt me."

"Guys, Miss Rococo and I are not participating for the prize, that should be obvious, but we're all aiming to put on good performances, worthy of Sectionals. We have to up our game every chance we get. We have to perform like we're gonna sail through to Regionals and straight into Nationals."

All the couples looked at each other and nodded.

"But seriously, what's the prize?" Finn asked.

"There's not gonna be a prize if you don't bring your A game for the competition," Melrose warned, jumping off the piano and standing squarely next to Will, arms crossed. "I'm here to advise you on how to be a better Glee club. Here's a piece: pretend like you're on American Idol and you could be kicked off unceremoniously at any point. Trust me, if you don't leave me, or Schuester or Miss Pillsbury with our mouths hanging open, I'll find a way to kick you off the Glee club."

"You can't do that," Tina said.

"I'm very persistent and I have limited bullshit tolerance. And right now you're all pissing me off a little bit. So don't make me."

Kurt and Blaine had to suppress a laugh. Melrose winked at them. She was starting to sound like a harmless version of Sue Sylvester. Maybe it was all the bickering that made it rub off on her.

Will cleared his throat. "What Miss Rococo is trying to say, I hope, is that you have to give it your best, because this club has enough experience by now to know that you should always do your best, even if it's just a competition among us."

"But is there a prize?" Brittany asked again.

Will put his hand on Melrose's shoulder to stop her from lashing out again, and he took a deep breath. "Yes, Brittany, there is a prize, but it's a surprise. So whoever wants to find out what it is, has to amaze us this Friday."

"Yay, I love surprises. We have to win, Artie," Brittany cheered somewhat demurely and put a hand on his leg.

Just then the bell rang, and Will told the kids to work hard on their duets. Finn and Rachel got up, Rachel talking excitedly about the song they were going to do; Sam and Quinn spoke very quietly, to make sure no one would overhear their song choice. Lauren got up, almost leaving Puck behind, but he hurried after her, still apologizing. Mike, who had looked nervous the entire class, started ranting to Tina about what the hell was he supposed to do now, and Tina was trying to calm him down as they left.

"I guess we're doing a duet again this year, Santana," Mercedes said, with a half-smile.

Santana, who watched longingly as Brittany wheeled Artie out of the classroom joking and laughing, turned to her and nodded. "Yes we are, and this time we're gonna win. We should've won last year, so we're pulling no stops, girl. We're gonna kick some ass."

"And I would like to apologize in advance, on behalf of Blaine and I," Kurt said. "So sorry, but we're going to mop the floor with you, and everyone else."

"Oh, you kids and your trash talk, it's adorable. But I do expect the four of you to bring it, you know. Have a major battle of awesomeness. Do not disappoint me," Melrose told them. They looked at one another and smiled.

"Bring it," Santana hooked arms with Mercedes and looked haughtily at the boys, who just managed to scowl back without bursting into laughter. Then the four of them walked out together, playfully jabbing at each other.

"So, do you really think we should do a duet?" Will asked, not looking at her, as he arranged sheets of music on top of the piano. Melrose looked taken aback.

"Why not? I thought I was here to help with the Glee club, and Glee clubs are about singing. So why not show these kids how it's done?"

"Why? Do you have a lot of wisdom to share?"

"I happen to have gotten my share of solos when I was in both Vocal Adrenaline and here."

"So what did you have in mind?" he asked curiously. She shrugged.

"I have no idea."

"Oh, I thought since you were so interested in doing this that you might already have something picked," Will said, puzzled. Melrose shook her head.

"Off the top of my head, I have a few good choices, but I don't usually focus too much on what I'm going to sing so far ahead. It depends a lot on how I'm feeling at the moment. I think that's what pissed Mr. Riley off about me. I always showed up under-rehearsed."

Will laughed. "So you just... wing it."

"Mostly. It worked for me. But if you want, we can pick something together and start rehearsing right now. Clearly I have nothing better to do."

She started leafing through a book of classics, sitting cross-legged atop the piano. Will watched her with a half-smile and shook his head.

* * *

><p>Blaine and Kurt walked toward their lockers, hips joined, each with one arm around the other's waist.<p>

"How do you feel about clocks?" Blaine asked. Kurt frowned in confusion.

"Be more specific."

"'Clocks' by Coldplay."

Kurt stopped and stared in awe at his boyfriend. "I love it."

Blaine's lips stretched into a smile. "Good. How do you feel about playing the piano?" The other boy's face fell a little.

"Wait, not singing and playing at the same time, right?"

"I knew you would object," Blaine pouted.

"I'm not objecting. I just... I have never gotten the hang of it," Kurt replied with a sigh. "I would just need a lot of practice."

"But you can do it. Sure you can do it. I'll help you. Say yes." He looked at Kurt with pleading eyes that reminded him of Puss in Boots from 'Shrek'.

"How am I supposed to say no when you make that face? It's not fair," Kurt complained. "And I do love that song," he added thoughtfully. "Yes," he finally said without hesitation. Blaine squeezed him closer and kissed his cheek.

"That's great, because there's a piano in my house, if you remember, and I don't want to brag, but I'm a pretty good teacher," he said excitedly.

"I'm ready for piano lessons, professor Anderson," Kurt said, smiling and cocking an eyebrow.

"When you say it like that, it sounds kinda kinky," Blaine said, grinning.

"So?" Kurt smirked.

Blaine chuckled and kissed Kurt again, this time on the lips. He only did it when he thought no one was looking. Kurt felt a little exhilarated. They were kissing in the school hallway, in plain sight; it was a weird thrill. Until they were interrupted.

Blaine staggered sideways and had to regain his balance when someone walked by too close and bumped him hard. They turned in time to see Karofsky walking away briskly, not even looking back to see the effect that his action had on the two boys. Blaine and Kurt looked at each other, wondering what that was about.

"I don't know about you, but I guess I'm willing to let that go," Blaine shrugged. Kurt shook his head.

"I don't know what to do. I can't even get him to talk to me anymore, he just runs off," he said.

"Maybe it's everything that happened last year."

"It's like he gets more and more terrified," Kurt said. Between Kurt's return and the junior prom, he knew that something had happened to Dave Karofsky that he couldn't quite understand, like taking a step back to the way he used to be, before the Bullywhips. Kurt remembered that day that Karofsky had apologized to him, almost in tears, for everything; now it was like it had never happened. He had asked Santana about it, but she pretended she didn't know anything.

"Don't worry, he knows we're here to help," Blaine said, watching Kurt's face. "When he's ready, he'll stop being a jerk and maybe he'll talk to us. If he's willing to be civil, then maybe we can all be friends, even if he doesn't dare to come out yet."

Kurt nodded briefly, as they walked to their lockers.

* * *

><p>"Wow, I actually had forgotten that you're such a hipster," Kurt said almost accusingly, but with a smile. He, Blaine, Mercedes and Santana were staring around Melrose's flat with a look of amusement. Up until that afternoon, Melrose had refused to invite Kurt or anyone into it because she said she hadn't finished unpacking, but now that they were there, it didn't really look like she had even gotten started at all.<p>

Boxes lined an entire wall, and framed posters leaned against it. At the foot of the bed sat an open suitcase that looked like it had exploded. A pile of clothes lay on the bed, and another one took up most of a couch. Shoes were tumbling out of the closet. Melrose's computer and printer sat on top of a large rectangular box that contained a brand new, yet unassembled, office desk.

Kurt looked around her kitchen. The only things in her pantry were spices, coffee, tea, a jar of Nutella, and low-sodium crackers. Her magnet-littered refrigerator contained nothing but a loaf of bread, some eggs, butter, orange juice, and a lot of beer and wine.

"Look. See this?" he said, holding up the Nutella and a box of Darjeeling. "Hipster."

"I like it. It's minimalistic," Mercedes said.

"I like your ironic desk," Santana pointed out.

"This place is totally you," Blaine added, "laid back and unassuming."

"That is such a hipster opinion," Kurt said.

"What do you want me to say? I pretty much like anything that doesn't look like a Dalton dorm. Don't get me wrong, I loved my time there, but it felt like Hogwarts without the talking portraits."

"I thought you liked the idea of Hogwarts."

"What is Hogwarts without talking portraits?"

"I see. Personally I wouldn't trade the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, which mimics the sky outside," Kurt responded. "I read it in _Hogwarts: A History_," he added with a smile and his best Hermione impression. Blaine laughed.

"Oh, you guys are so cute. You're like Potter geeks and in love," Melrose grinned, taking a sip of Diet Coke.

Kurt glanced at the sink. Apparently all of Melrose's silverware and dishes were there. Not a single piece matched to another, like they were all orphans from different sets.

"Seriously, I must be in hipster hell," he said.

"Kurt, be nice," Mercedes scolded him.

"It's alright, Mercedes. Fluffy is a bit obsessive compulsive, but I love him for it. And he knows I'm the complete opposite and he still loves me too," Melrose said, walking over to Kurt and messing up his hair, to which he tried not to look too annoyed. "Besides, there are worse things to be than a hipster. Which I really am not. I mean, they wouldn't let me in the club, thankfully."

"Not until you get rid of that old gas-guzzling Volvo and trade it for a bike. For which my dad would murder you," Kurt said.

"And I would never want papa Burt to go to jail because of me. Besides, I hate Lomo cameras, I have a pathetic excuse for a mobile phone, I'm a failed vegetarian, I listen to mainstream radio, and I don't drink Pabst. I'm pretty sure that makes me a persona non-grata in hipsterdom."

"What's Pabst?" Mercedes asked.

"It's piss in a beer can," Melrose replied with a scrunch of her nose.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Santana asked, holding up a framed picture that was carelessly placed flat on a shelf from the bookcase. The others approached to see, and Melrose let out a long breath.

"Yeah, that's him," she answered in a monotone.

"Hmm," the other four kids said in unison. The picture showed a tall black-haired boy posing with the Eiffel tower in the background, his hands in his pockets and a pair of shades hanging from his mouth by the tip of one of its legs.

"Did you say his name was Thierry?" Mercedes asked.

"His name is Terry, he's Scottish," Melrose glared at Kurt. "What is your obsession with his name being Thierry?"

"It's so much sexier than Terry."

"Well, he's sexy no matter what," Santana said, still looking at the picture.

"Back to business," Melrose snatched the frame out of her hands and put it back in a box, then turned to the pile of clothes on her bed and started laying them out. "I have plenty of clothes to combine, but I'm used to not having to abide by a dress code, except the one dictated by the weather."

"Granted, I'm not going to throw anything out, because you should keep your french bobo chic lady style for when you leave us again for Paris and make a mad dash back into Thierry's arms, complaining about Ohio and it's soul-sucking dullness," Kurt said, looking each piece of clothing from the pile while hooking each to a hanger.

Melrose made a face. "I wouldn't rule out the idea of staying here. Maybe I can give some soul to Ohio. And if you make another reference to Harry Potter, as I suspect you will at any moment, I'll kick you to the curb," she said.

"What? We weren't going to say anything," Blaine held his hands up in defense. "And by the way, if you knew how we could insert a Potter reference in there, that means you're just as big a nerd as us."

"I know, it sucks," she said, refilling Mercedes Coke and her own.

Santana and Mercedes plopped down on the couch and turned on Melrose's tiny old TV set. Blaine picked up Melrose's acoustic guitar and started plucking away at the strings, humming something. Kurt assumed that it was 'Clocks'. He was about to tell him not to sing it in front of the competition or he would give away their performance, when Melrose huffed loudly and tossed a t-shirt across the room angrily.

"Was that his?" he asked in a low voice.

Melrose only nodded as she continued with her labor.

"What happened? Did he do something to you?"

"No," she said blatantly.

"Then why did you leave him behind?"

She stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can talk about it. I mean, I'm still figuring stuff out."

Kurt nodded. "Well, I tell you everything. I've told you everything about me so far, so you know you can tell me anything and everything," he said. "So whenever you're ready, you know I'm here. Just a reminder," he added.

She nodded again and smiled at him. "What would I do without you, Fluffy?"

"Well, for one thing, your hair would be a mess. But I see you always follow my advice, and I'm proud of you."

"I don't think I tell you enough, but I'm proud of you too," she said, and gave his hand a squeeze.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat at the piano in the Anderson home, plunking at the keys in frustration when he was supposed to be warming up.<p>

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, while he tuned his guitar.

"I'm sorry I'm not more excited about this, I really wish I were, because I love this song and I love the idea of singing it as a duet, with you," Kurt sighed. "But even if we win, I doubt they'll let us sing it or any other song as a duet for Sectionals, like they did with Sam and Quinn last year. Or like we did with the Warblers."

"You don't know for sure," Blaine answered, but somewhat mellow.

"Yes I do. I know because it's what always happens. It's for the very same reason why people still stare at us when we walk down the school corridors holding hands. The reason why I was crowned prom queen as a joke last year. The reason why Dave Karofsky is still afraid to come out of the closet. It's pure, unadulterated prejudice. I'm not saying that Mr. Schue would decide that on his own, but someone is going to warn him not to let the gay kids do the duet unless he wants tomatoes thrown at us onstage during Sectionals. It's just the same thing every time."

"And every time, we don't let any of those things bring us down," Blaine said, placing the guitar against the wall, and sitting next to Kurt on the piano. "When did you stop having fun just for the sake of having fun and not for trying to make a statement?"

Kurt sighed again, deeper this time. He knew he was about to be lectured, and he knew that Blaine was going to be one hundred percent right.

"I've learned so much from you about how to deal with all of it," he continued, "and the more time I spend with you, the less I care about what everyone might think or say or do."

"I always thought I was learning from you," Kurt said with a chuckle.

"Not at all. Because it wasn't until I met you that I realized how much I wanted this at any cost. But you already knew."

"This?" Kurt asked. Blaine grabbed his hand.

"Us. You and me. Behaving like any other couple," he said. "I was afraid I wouldn't even find love for a very long time, but then you snuck into Dalton with your inconspicuous disguise, and it all changed for me."

He played with Kurt's fingers, while Kurt used his free hand to cling to his seat. He loved it when Blaine played with his fingers. It gave him shivers.

"Every decision that I used to make was based on fear. On being careful, of not drawing attention to myself or setting off the bullies," Blaine continued. "When I fell in love with you, it's started being about what I really want, and what I want for you. For us."

He shrugged. "Screw Sectionals. We're gonna kick ass this friday, and then we'll see what happens. If we get to reprise out duet for Sectionals or Regionals or even Nationals, then great. If not, it'll be just our song. We don't need anyone else's approval of it, anyway," Blaine said. Kurt smiled and brought Blaine's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

"I like your attitude, professor Anderson," Kurt said. Blaine raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"You just gave me an idea," he said. "Would you like to postpone the lesson for a while?"

"Why? What did you want to do instead?" Kurt asked, as Blaine stood up and pulled him along.

"Make out in my bedroom, before my parents get home?"

"Again, I like your attitude, professor Anderson."

* * *

><p>Wednesday, Melrose strutted into Glee club looking snazzy in black pants, a knitted white top and a leather jacket. Her black Doc Martens, however, were still rightfully on her feet, but complimented her outfit nicely.<p>

"Wow, Miss Rococo, you look great," Artie said, looking her up and down.

"Thank you, Artie."

Will looked up and raised an eyebrow appreciatively as she went to take her place on top of the piano.

"You no longer look like a student," Puck said, smirking.

"I don't get it, is that a compliment?"

"Yes it is. If you were a bit older, you'd be a MILF."

"Easy, Puckerman. When you let out your charm and my knees start knocking, you know you have to control yourself."

"Doesn't she remind you of a younger, shorter, red-headed Miss Holiday in that outfit?" Tina said to Mercedes. Will glanced at her in surprise.

"I guess it's the leather jacket," Mercedes said.

"Who's Miss Holiday?" Melrose asked.

"She was our previous substitute teacher," Tina answered.

"She broke Mr. Schue's heart," Rachel added.

"She did not break my heart. Our relationship was barely starting when she bailed on me," Will explained. "She went to be a french teacher in Nebraska or Nevada or... somewhere."

Melrose looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, rather sheepishly. Will was surprised at the tone of her voice. Clearing his mind, though, he turned to the class and clapped his hands.

"All right, let's get started," he said. "Now, as you all agreed that Miss Rococo and I should do a duet as well, because we could always use the chance to sharpen our dueting skills, we worked together on a little something."

Melrose jumped off the piano and joined Will at the front of the class.

"Now, I got the idea for this from something she mentioned on Monday. If you all remember, one of the best seasons of American Idol, was the year that also gave us one of the best duets ever," he paused for dramatic effect, "'Slow ride' by Adam Lambert and Allison Iraheta."

Everyone cheered.

"That was a great season," Sam said.

"When Adam Lambert, for inexplicable reasons, did not win," Kurt said, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, dude, I was actually rooting for Kris Allen," Sam answered. "Guitar man, you know."

"I wanted Kradison to win," Brittany said.

"That would've never happened, since that would be three people winning," Santana retorted.

"Wait, I thought Kradison was the name of the pink-haired girl."

"Can we just get started?" Will said.

"Sorry," Brittany apologized.

"Hit it," Will said to the band leader.

The thumping bass pedal led into the guitar riffs, and eventually into Will and Melrose singing. They had yet to hear Melrose sing, and she sounded as gritty as the real Allison Iraheta. She also looked rather fierce in her leather jacket, and Will regretted not having worn something more in tune with their performance.

Melrose strutted and whipped her hair, and played air guitar. When the song was over, and they belted out the last line of the song, Will was grinning at her. She was definitively feeling it.

"And that's how it's done," she declared at the end, tossing the microphone at him, and he barely caught it. The kids clapped and cheered and she did a little bow before returning to her seat atop the piano.

Will cleared his throat. "Yeah, that's how it's done," he said. He was glad he hadn't asked Emma to be present for this one performance.

* * *

><p>Dave puffed and adjusted his knee pads. Football practice was thankfully almost over. He just wanted to run off the field and disappear; he had a hard time concentrating since almost the beginning of practice, when he had noticed the two boys sitting halfway up the stands.<p>

He figured Kurt must've been waiting for Finn, since they probably were going home together. And that guy was just waiting with him. They talked the whole time animatedly, occasionally sharing a caress or holding each other's hands. They cheered quietly when one of their friends did something well. Artie waved at them from the sidelines.

"Karofsky, Travers, take five!" coach Beiste instructed. Dave and one of the linebackers stepped off to the sideline; Travers took his helmet off and chugged down a bottle of Gatorade. Dave shuffled subtly toward the bleachers and sat down at the steps, with the excuse of checking his shoes. He didn't take off his helmet, hoping they wouldn't notice it was him sitting at earshot.

Over the grunts and yells of his teammates still in play, and coach Beiste's shouting orders, Dave had to really strain his ears to catch anything they might be saying to each other. The helmet didn't help much. "...and who would've thought? I had no idea. But I only did it to impress my dad at the time. I mean, I hadn't come out to him at the time," Kurt's voice somehow carried down the stands.

"It's cool. But if you were so good, why didn't you stay?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know, I guess I didn't really like it. Finn had to basically explain everything to me, I was completely clueless at the time. It's just not my thing."

"But you didn't give it a chance. I think you would've been brilliant. You did help them win the only game the team won that year."

"I also didn't like coach Tanaka, he was a bit of a jerk. If coach Beiste had been around at the time, maybe, _maybe_, I would've considered staying."

"Think of it, if you had been on the team, you would've been able to do that awesome half-time show from last year."

"I do lament that. That was awesome."

They fell silent for a moment.

"But if I had been at McKinley at the time, I would've still been able to do it, 'cause it was the whole Glee club. I had to leave the school, I would've had to quit the football team as well, anyway," Kurt continued. "Can you imagine if I had stayed? Karofsky and I would've be on the same team."

What sounded like a chuckle was followed by Blaine's voice. "Well, actually, you kind of are on the same _team_," he said, emphasizing the word 'team'.

"You know, that's not really funny," Kurt replied.

"Sorry, you're right."

They were definitively not aware of his presence. Dave stood up after lacing up his shoes again and wandered over to the other guys in the sideline. He still could not focus. Worse than that, he was bummed out even more now. He really wanted to just run off the field and keep running. Anywhere but here.

* * *

><p>The merciful end of practice came some ten minutes later. Beiste riled at him for his mind being elsewhere this whole time. He was sore and bitter when he reached the showers, and took his sweet long time washing the feeling of defeat and shame off. Everyone was done and out of the locker room when he finally started getting dressed.<p>

He came out the locker room through the football field, heading toward the shortcut he usually took at the end of the day, around the outside of the school building, leading straight into the parking lot. When he stepped out, he saw the Glee boys all in the middle of the field; Kurt and Blaine were there too. They were talking and laughing and goofing around, and Finn was tossing a football between his hands. Dave stopped behind the corner of the bleachers to watch.

"Show him, Kurt!" Puck shouted.

"No!" Kurt retorted.

"Come on, show Sam too, he hasn't seen you either, and he doesn't believe me," Finn said.

"Do it!" Sam said and clapped his hands twice over his head.

"Come on, show us," Blaine said, more gently and pleadingly.

"Kurt! Kurt! Kurt!" Puck and Mike started chanting.

"Guys, no!" Kurt was trying not to laugh now. He said something lower to Finn and gestured toward his feet, and Finn waved his hand dismissively; probably Kurt was concerned he wasn't wearing the proper shoes and Finn did not accept it as an excuse. He dropped on one knee and put the ball on the ground.

"No!" Kurt protested.

"Just do it," Finn laughed.

"Come on, Kurt!" Mike hollered.

"KURT! KURT! KURT!" Now Artie, Sam and Blaine had joined the chanting, and were clapping their hands in unison.

"Let it go, guys," Kurt had his arms crossed defiantly now.

"_Cause if you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it!_" Artie sang. Kurt let out a chortle.

"I_f you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it!_" Puck and Mike chorused. Sam and Blaine shared a confused look, but they too started singing.

"_Don't be mad when you see that he want it/ And if you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it/Whoa-oh-ooh-oh-oh!_"

Kurt was shaking his head, but Finn was holding the ball upright with his left hand. Kurt face-palmed, but he was already moving his foot to the rhythm.

"_Whoa-oh-ooh-oh-oh-oh-ooh!_"

Kurt did a little dance as he approached the ball, took impulse, then kicked. His leg swung forward beautifully, almost effortlessly, and the ball described a perfect arch, as it crossed half the field and flew straight between the goalposts, almost dead-center.

Blaine and Sam were wide-eyed and open-mouthed staring in disbelief, and they let out very comical choked laughs. The other guys wooted and clapped. Kurt shrugged, and Finn mussed up his hair.

"Still got it!" he shouted triumphantly, smiling at his step-brother. The guys high-fived Kurt. Blaine put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

"Oh man, that WAS awesome," he said between chuckled.

"Why aren't you on the team again?" San asked.

"Well, there's the little issue of the guy who once threatened to kill me," Kurt said, half-jokingly. The laughter died off slowly.

"Screw that guy," Puck exclaimed, as they started back toward the building.

Dave hurried away. He probably should go before they could run into him and give him hell.

* * *

><p><em>Sooooo... let me know what you think so far.<em>

_For the record, there are many performances coming up in future chapters, and I just wish I could describe each fully like how they play out in my head without going for three extra pages on each. But I'll do my best._

_And 'Clocks' was a completely random selection. I was just listening to it one day and I thought of how much I wish someone would sing it on the show. If it ever comes up during an episode for real, I think I'm going to cry._

_Anyway, thanks for reading. Have a good day._

_-Vale_


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the lack of updates, I was visiting family out of town. I wish there was something more exciting that I had been doing to excuse me from writing. Like going to Glee live. Alas! It isn't so. All I can do is Tumblr about it. At least I'm not the only one._

_This was a pretty long chapter, though, should keep me going into this writing frenzy I went in when I came back._

_Hope you enjoy it._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, but Ryan Murphy and FOX kinda let me borrow all of it for my own entertainment. _

* * *

><p><span>Blackened Blue Eyes<span>

_by HappyValentina_

Kurt was feeling jaded now. He couldn't even get the beginning of the song right. Only a few notes into it and his fingers seemed to cramp. After the eighteenth attempt, he threw up his hands in frustration.

"I'm so sorry," he plopped down onto the keys and making a terrifying sound. Blaine shook his head.

"You're too tense. You're not focused, you're just stressed right now."

"I can't help it. I'm terrible," Kurt muttered through pouted lips, making Blaine laugh.

"You're not terrible, you're just rusty."

Kurt tried again, but in his head he was already screwing it up again, and then he did. He made another thunderous sound on purpose. Blaine gave him a comforting smile. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."

"Enjoy myself?"

"Have fun. That's the purpose of being a performer. You do what you do because you love it and you enjoy it. Loosen up and loose yourself."

"I'm trying to loosen up, but I'm too nervous about messing up. I haven't had enough time to practice, and it shows."

"That's not true. Here, I'll prove it to you," Blaine said, and he pushed his guitar to hang behind his back and walked over to Kurt; Kurt scooted over, thinking that Blaine was going to sit down and play the piano with him. Instead, Blaine cupped his chin with his hand and kissed him; he kissed him gently but deeply, and Kurt's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted to allow him in, as he felt Blaine's tongue sweep across the edge of his teeth. He felt himself being swept away.

Blaine interrupted the kiss and looked into Kurt's eyes, but Kurt still had his eyes closed. He felt his heart racing a little.

"That's not fair, I wasn't ready for that," he muttered breathlessly. Blaine chuckled, blushing slightly.

"Sorry, that was an experiment, on relaxation exercises," he said, brushing his thumb across Kurt's cheek. "Do you want to play now?"

"Sure," Kurt answered without much thought, and he placed his hands over the piano keys. Blaine held his guitar at the ready and signaled Kurt to start.

His fingers moved fluidly over the keys and he started singing on cue, and then Blaine came in with his verse, and suddenly they were harmonizing as Kurt continued to play, and before he knew it, the song was over, and he finished with a confident flourish.

"That was flawless," Blaine said, smiling so big that it was contagious. Kurt beamed back.

"I don't even know how I did that," he said, not entirely honest.

"Yes you do," Blaine said, sitting next to Kurt. "Do you want to go again?"

Kurt pretended to think about it, and smirked. "You know, I think I need to relax a little bit more first, can we try that exercise one more time?" he joked. Blaine chuckled, and leaned in to kiss him again.

* * *

><p>Friday in Glee club, all the couples were ready and in a competitive mood. Mercedes and Santana waved at Kurt and Blaine as they entered the choir room, and the four of them sat down to chat. Santana, needless to say, had blood in her eyes as she watched Rachel, who was warming up her voice and attempting to get Finn to do the same. As always, Finn was a bit aloof. Sam and Quinn were talking very quietly, Brittany was just playing with Artie's bow tie, Mike and Tina stood in a corner limbering up, while Puck and Lauren just sat around like nothing was going on.<p>

"Are you nervous again?" Blaine asked, watching Kurt wringing his hands.

"What do you mean 'again'? I'm always nervous before a performance," Kurt replied.

"You look las nervous as when we performed that other duet at Regionals."

"You mean when we lost?" Kurt pointed out. "To Rachel?"

Blaine bit his lip to hide a smile. "Don't think about that so much. Forget about competing against Rachel. You're gonna be great, as always, and that's all that matters," he said, intertwining his fingers with Kurt's. Kurt took a deep breath and smiled as confidently as he could.

Mr. Schuester walked in just then, followed by Emma Pillsbury carrying a notebook, and Melrose smoking the last of a cigarette before putting it out in an ashtray she had brought herself and placed on top of the piano. Instead of taking her usual spot atop the piano, she took a seat on the first row, a few seats away from Kurt and Blaine, while Emma sat all the way to the left.

"Okay, kids, you're all ready for the first duets competition, I hope," Will announced, clapping his hands together. "I'd like to welcome our judge panel, Miss Emma Pillsbury. I will be assisting her on the performance analysis, but ultimately she decides who the winner is, so you're out to impress her."

"So, who wants to go first?"

Before anyone spoke, Puck and Lauren were already getting up and walking down to the floor.

"Hello, we're Pizes," Puck said into his mike, and grinned, and Lauren nudged him playfully.

Puck slung the guitar over his shoulder, and Lauren stood at the mike stand with her hands on her hips. Then they both started whistling.

"Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros", Sam whispered excitedly.

The Pizes performance of 'Home' was fun and amusing; they were supposed to leave out the little tête-à-tête in the middle of the song, but Puck went with it, talking about how they first met when Lauren rescued him from the porta potty, and Lauren had to play along, which resulted in a very funny skit. They even did a little dance throughout the song. Everyone clapped, and Sam and Mike whistled. Puck pushed his guitar out of the way and went to squeeze Lauren, with her trying to push him off.

"Why are you so mean to me?" he pouted in a childish voice.

"Behave yourself, Puckerman," she said in a fake annoyed voice, because she was trying not to smile.

Emma grinned and squeezed her hands in front of her chest. "That was a lot of fun, guys, a perfect duet. I loved it," she gushed as Puck and Lauren went to sit down again.

Mike and Tina got up before anyone else got the chance, and they leapt to the middle of the floor like spring toys. Tina cleared her throat.

"Hello, Mike and I would like to entertain you with a live reinterpretation of the video of 'Shut up and let me go' by The Ting Tings. We hope you enjoy it," she said.

"Oh, they will," Mike added with a fake smug head tilt, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. They both donned colorful sunglasses and adopted mock fighting stances as the band began to play.

"I love this song," Blaine and Kurt both said to each other almost simultaneously, and they had to laugh at their like-minded reaction.

The performance was fun and theatrical. It was a great song choice for Mike, because he wasn't really singing but he was 'singing', a lot like on his first duet with Tina. Only this time, he was more confident. The choreography was brilliant, a combination of dancing and pretending to do kung fu, just like in the video, but they gave it a lot more pizzazz.

Sam, Finn and Brittany gave them a standing o, and the rest of the kids clapped and cheered, while Santana and Mercedes glanced at each other in frustration.

"Great song choice, guys!" Will said, standing up too.

"That was so much fun to watch," Emma tried to contain her excitement but it seeped through her voice.

The next duet was Sam and Quinn doing 'Iris' by Goo Goo Dolls; it was a lovely rock ballad stripped down to a mellow acoustic version, with Sam playing the guitar, a little predictable, but it was especially lovely because they kept looking at each other and the electricity between them was palpable. Kurt wondered why did they ever break up. Sure, Finn and Quinn made a cute couple -heck, their names even rhymed-, but it was nothing like seeing the kind of person Quinn became when she was with super nice guy Sam, and how sweet they sounded together. When the song ended, Kurt couldn't help a sigh of satisfaction, followed by a jolt of nerves. If anything, Fabrevans's song choice was very similar to his and Blaine's, and that might take away their chance of standing out.

"We should've gone first," he whispered to Blaine, but the dark-haired boy only patted his hand.

"Relax, they were good, but we're gonna be even better," he said, as he started to clap. Sam and Quinn bowed and Emma gave them a standing ovation.

"Very romantic and lovely," she said with a dreamy sigh.

"And very good song choice. That is probably one of the most memorable rock ballads ever," Will added.

Santana leapt to her feet and pulled Mercedes up with her. The two girls stepped down the raisers and turned to face their audience as they reached the floor.

Instead of introducing their performance, Santana signed to the bassist to start, and the first riffs of Corinne Bailey Rae's 'The Blackest Lily' made Kurt sit up excitedly, wondering how these two divas would approach the song arrangement. He wasn't disappointed, either. The girls' shifted constantly between an emulation of Corinne's soft voice and their own big booming ones, and they did a little dance as they sang too. It was lovely and cute and powerful and rather unexpected, but so fitting. As always, Mercedes ended the song with a big note, and as always, it gave Kurt goosebumps. He sprang to his feet and started clapping and hooting, and Blaine did the same. Emma Pillsbury was predictably on her feet too, clapping enthusiastically. Melrose clapped demurely, like she didn't want to show how truly excited she was, but her grin indicated that she was ecstatic.

"I knew they would kick ass," Melrose said, pumping her fist, while Emma gushed at the girls.

"As you kids say, you nailed it," she said, squeezing her hands together excitedly.

"How is she ever gonna pick one winner? She's gushed about everyone," Melrose whispered to Kurt. He just shrugged.

Mercedes and Santana went back to their seats, grinning from ear to ear, and they high-fived each other before turning to the boys and smiling smugly. "Top that, gentle-girls," Santana teased with a wink. Kurt and Blaine gave her theatrical huffs of contempt.

"Who wants to go next?" Will was asking.

Blaine put his hand up and lifted Kurt's as well. Taken aback, Kurt tried to put it back down, but Blaine gave him a look.

"Come on, let's get it over with, get rid of those jitters," he whispered. Kurt took a deep breath and stood up.

"Very well, Kurt and Blaine. Take it away," Will clapped as the boys climbed down the raiser and headed to the center of the performance area.

"Hello, we're the Handerson Twosome," Blaine joked, and some of the kids chuckled. "We hope you enjoy this performance, I have the feeling some of you will be pleasantly surprised," he added, and looked at Kurt and gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

He picked up the guitar and strapped it over his shoulder. Kurt walked over to the piano and sat on the bench; he saw out of the corner of his eye that some of his friends were whispering to each other. They must've been surprised, most of them had never seen him play the piano before. Nervously he cracked his fingers and knuckles and shook his hands.

He looked at Blaine, and Blaine gave him the thumbs-up and winked at him, which gave Kurt the faintest jolt in his spine. Kurt's fingers started moving over the keys with as much fluidity as in practice, and he realized he wasn't nervous anymore. He could almost feel the smiles of his friends, as they heard the melody and realized what song it was.

The drummer joined in, then the string section, and Blaine strumming his guitar. Then Kurt started to sing. He sang with a smile. He sang with his eyes closed. As he continued to play, it was Blaine's turn to start singing, and Kurt listened for a moment with eyes still closed, until he had to join in, and his eyes met Blaine's. They smiled at each other as they harmonized perfectly.

He almost didn't want to break eye contact, but he was afraid he would get lost in those hazel eyes and miss a note or something. He closed his eyes and the song felt more powerful than he had ever felt it before, and he felt his chest swell with it. He was looking at Blaine again, who was watching him somewhat transfixed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Melrose with the stupidest grin on her face.

They reached the final part of the song, and suddenly Kurt realized he didn't want the song to end at all. He could stay like that forever, wrapped up in that beautiful reverberating melody, staring into Blaine's eyes as they sang to each other. But as he played the closing notes on the piano, with the string section phasing out slowly, he resisted the urge to look up at Blaine, who was now walking around the piano and approaching him slowly. He couldn't help but smile as he felt him standing behind him and leaning down. When he played the last note, Blaine kissed him on the cheek, and Kurt felt the color rising to his face.

Most of New Directions, including Mr. Schuester, Miss Pillsbury, and obviously Melrose, gave them a standing ovation. Blaine led Kurt to the middle of the floor and they took a bow.

"That was fantastic, boys," Emma said, barely containing her joy, as the two of them walked back to their seats. "I loved it."

"Oh my god, I absolutely love that song," Quinn murmured to Brittany.

"Aw crap," Puck said in defeat.

"That was so lovely," Melrose swooned, in an odd display of cheesiness on her part. And Kurt knew they actually had a shot at winning. As he watched Miss Pillsbury jotting down her notes on her cards, still smiling, he felt hopeful. He didn't even feel smug about it. He was just happy, and grateful at Blaine; he wouldn't have nailed that song if it hadn't been for him. Unable to resist the urge, he pecked his boyfriend very quickly on the cheek and bit his lip to keep from smiling like a dork.

Brittany and Artie didn't wait for Mr. Schuester to ask who wanted to go next, and considering there were only two duets left, it wasn't a surprise. After all, Rachel always wanted to go last, in the 'pimping spot', as Melrose called it.

Artie started singing 'Beyond the sea' by Bobby Darin, an unusual choice, but very fitting. He and Brittany sang very nicely, and they did a lovely choreography, with Brittany climbing on the edge of Artie's wheelchair and both gliding around the floor like a couple doing figure skating. Kurt had to give them props for originality and edge.

"That's not fair. No one said anything about props," Melrose said.

"Are you listening to yourself?" Kurt asked, half-laughing because he hoped she was joking.

"I'm only joking, Fluffy, don't get your panties in a bunch," Melrose said, as the performance ended and the group clapped, Santana rather reluctant to show any enthusiasm.

"And finally, we have Rachel and Finn," Will announced, as Rachel stood up grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Finn looking like he always did, like he was going to upchuck.

"Good day, judges, Finn and I perform one of the greatest rock ballads of all time, 'I don't wanna miss a thing' by Aerosmith, we hope you enjoy it," Rachel said, doing a curtsy.

The string section played the introduction, and Finn soon started singing. Rachel joined him in the chorus, harmonizing, and they sounded flawlessly. When it came to interpreting Steven Tyler's wailing, however, it was Rachel doing it in breathtaking trills, her face reflecting the passion and effort and focus she carried throughout every booming performance. Finn was almost having trouble not getting drowned out by her voice.

Everyone clapped, but this time Emma said nothing. She seemed overwhelmed, scribbling quickly and intently in her little notebook, something she barely did during the other performances. It reminded Kurt eerily of Jesse St. James when he was their choir counselor.

Mercedes made a noise, like she was waiting for the inevitable disappointment. Kurt almost made a similar noise, but both Santana and Melrose hit Mercedes as if trying to get her to snap out of it.

"Okay, thank you, Finn and Rachel, that was outstanding, as always," Will said, standing up as Finchel sat back down. "I'm gonna ask Miss Pillsbury, then, to provide us with her decision. Emma?"

Emma stood up carefully and cleared her throat, gripping her little notebook to her chest.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you for this opportunity. I always love being involved with the Glee club and helping out any way I can," she began. Kurt was about to make the noise again, but Blaine had grabbed his hand and was squeezing it gently.

"Now," she started, and looked over her notes, "at this time, I think I need a little more time to go over the performances so that I can make my decision. If that's okay with you."

Before Will could assent, everyone groaned.

"What more time do you need?" Rachel asked, in a tone that implied that she was certain she had won and why would Miss Pillsbury pretend that she was even thinking about it.

"Everyone was really good, and every performance was very different. I don't want to make a rushed decision, it wouldn't be fair," Emma answered. "I have to consider each one thoroughly before I pick just one."

Rachel slumped back in her chair, arms crossed.

"All right, gang, we're gonna allow Miss Pillsbury to take her time analyzing the duets," Will said, standing next to Emma. "We really don't have much time left, and it's final period, so how about ten minutes for deliberating? Do you need any help? Melrose and I can help," he asked her.

Emma glanced over Will's shoulder at Melrose, who gave her a cheesy grin and wave, and looked back at Will. "Umm, I think just you, because Melrose might really be biased," she said. Melrose's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"Okay, we'll be back with the winner. Behave yourselves in the meantime," Will said, and he and Emma stepped out of the room.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes went by, during which hardly anyone spoke. Rachel sat smugly at the front, while Finn complained about having messed up a couple of notes and she had to assure him that they were absolutely perfect. Sam and Quinn chatted very closely and quietly, smiling and flirting like they really didn't care about the outcome; Brittany was once again playing with Artie's clothes and hair. Mike and Tina were doing disgusting PDA in their corner. Puck only spoke up to tell them to stop.<p>

Mercedes and Kurt exchanged a look. They had both been staring at Rachel like they always did; with anger and jealousy. Rachel, who always got the solos; Rachel, who always won competitions.

"You know?" Mercedes started. "I really want you guys to win." Kurt smiled sadly.

"Actually, I think this one should be for you."

"I agree with Kurt," Santana said smugly. Mercedes rolled her eyes. Blaine laughed. Before he could say anything, however, Will walked back into the choir room, followed soon by Emma.

Will sat down and cleared his throat. "Miss Pillsbury, have you reached a decision?"

Emma glanced once more at her notes and beamed at Will.

"Yes, I have," she replied. "I have to say, it was a very difficult choice to make, since all the duets were outstanding. But there were two performances that caught my attention above the rest, and I have to admit... I couldn't make up my mind between the two. There was a tie."

Some members of New Directions cheered, while others booed -namely Rachel-.

"So, if it's fine with Mr. Schuester, I will be contributing with an additional prize for the second duet," she said, holding a certificate in her hand.

"Oh, the prize," Will said, standing up again, "well, prizes in this case, would be -Santana, are you listening?- two free dinner certificates for two people at Breadstix," he held up the prized coupons.

"TELL ME THAT I WON!" Santana exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

"You're so predictable," Quinn pointed out.

"I couldn think of nothing that the winning couples would enjoy more than a nice dinner together at a trendy place, or in Santana's case, stuffing herself full of breadsticks, whether her duet partner accompanies her or not," Will said.

"Just tell us who won!" Puck yelled.

"TELL ME I WON!" Santana shouted again.

"All right, calm down," Emma said, and pulling out a piece of paper from her shirt pocket. "Before Santana has a fit, I'm very proud to award the first certificate, for their performance of 'The Blackest Lily', to Santana and Mercedes."

She hadn't even finished her sentence, when the two girls were already jumping up and down on the raiser and screaming. Santana dashed to Miss Pillsbury and snatched one of the coupons out of her hand, while Mercedes looked very surprised and happy, and she hugged Emma frantically.

The kids all clapped, while Rachel and Quinn rolled their eyes at Santana, who was now doing a little dance and waving the certificate around. Kurt squeezed Mercedes' arm when she sat down, and whispered an 'I told you so'. But then his face fell a little.

He knew the other couple that would win was Rachel and Finn, like they always did. He could see Rachel getting ready to stand up and claim her prize as soon as Miss Pillsbury announced her name. Emma cleared her throat again.

"And I'm pleased to announced that the second couple to receive a coupon," she paused dramatically, producing a second piece of paper, "for their lovely performance of 'Clocks', Kurt and Blaine."

Kurt stared in shock, and Blaine hugged him, startling him.

"What?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

"What?" Rachel bellowed.

Blaine had to pull Kurt up by his underarms so they could go claim their prize. They thanked Miss Pillsbury profusely and Blaine did a sort of bow, as it sank slowly in Kurt's mind that he had actually won something in his life. Something that he actually wanted to win. Even something as simple as a duet competition in a group of fourteen performers.

"Congratulations, boys," Emma said as they continued to mumble their thanks and walked back to their seats. The group, minus a still astonished Rachel, clapped and cheered.

"Wait a moment, Miss Pillsbury-"

"Rachel, I'm gonna stop you right there before you say something to ruin this. They totally deserve it and you know it," Quinn interrupted Rachel before she could be hurtful or just plain annoying. Rachel crossed her arms defiantly and glared at her, before throwing a snide look at the school counselor. Emma took a deep breath and linked her hands behind her back.

"I'm sorry if you disagree with my decision, Rachel, but I'm the judge. Frankly, what your performance lacked was spontaneity. Santana, Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine all seemed to be enjoying themselves, everyone did, while you seemed to be trying too hard to stand out. It almost took out all the fun of watching you. You're very good, and so was Finn, and that was a great song you picked to do, but you need to have more fun with it, too."

Rachel tried not to look away from Emma as she listened, but she appeared so hurt and frustrated that she had to look away. Kurt almost felt sorry for her, but for once in his life he had beaten Rachel at something, and he couldn't hide his excitement. And it wasn't that Rachel had been bad at all, but somehow Kurt had been even better.

"You all did so well," Emma said to the group. "I almost made it a three-way tie, because I loved Tina and Mike's duet too, with all the dancing, but sadly I couldn't splurge on anymore free dinners."

Tina and Mike looked disappointed, but they shrugged and smiled smugly again.

"Thank you for having me as your judge, it was a lot of fun watching you all do your duets, and I..." Emma continued, but Kurt didn't hear the rest; Blaine was leaning toward him and whispering.

"I told you, didn't I? It's all about the fun," he said, his breath tickling Kurt's ear and neck. Kurt grinned, clutching Blaine's hand.

* * *

><p>"So, do you guys wanna go to Breadstix alone, or would you care for some female company?" Santana said gleefully, as the dismissal bell rang and students poured out of the classrooms and roamed the hallways on their way out of the building.<p>

"We understand if you want to use your coupon for a date," Mercedes interjected.

"What do you think, Kurt?" Blaine asked. Kurt thought about it for a moment.

"Well, it would be nice to go on a date, just the two of us," he began. "However, I'm a little uncertain about leaving poor Mercedes alone at the mercy of the Dark Lady herself," he added with a smirk. Santana made a face.

"Seriously, I can take care of myself," Mercedes said, laughing.

"I don't know, Mercedes, evil rubs off pretty efficiently when coming from the very original source," Kurt teased.

"Very funny," Santana said. "Just make up your minds already."

"It might be fun to go doubles," Blaine said. "Tomorrow night?"

"It's a double-date," Santana said, grinning and she held up her certificate and kissed it. Just then Rachel and Finn walked by, and Santana dangled it maliciously in their faces. Rachel was about to say something when Finn hurried away, pulling her along.

"Santana, play nice, and put that away or you'll lose it," Mercedes said. Santana smirked again and put the certificate in her bag obediently. Mercedes laughed. "See? I told you, I can handle her," she joked, patting Santana's head, while she gave her a murderous look.

"Congratulations to the dynamic duos, I'm so proud of you," Melrose said, gliding by them on her way to her office.

"Why don't you join us at Breadstix tomorrow?" Kurt asked before she could get away.

"Kurt, you can't invite me on your date. That's lame. What do you want me to do, chaperone? You can make out at the table for all I care. In fact, I encourage it," Melrose replied.

"No, it's not a date," Kurt said, trying not to blush. "The four of us are going. So why not you too?"

"The four of you are going?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, you must really like your friends, I would've totally used that coupon for a date. You boys are dorks."

"Thank you," Kurt said sarcastically.

"I'm kidding, I guess. You kids have fun," Melrose replied with a sarcastic smile. "Seriously, you deserve it," she added, and winked at them.

The four of them stopped by their lockers to drop off stuff before leaving. Santana popped the door of her locker closed, and suddenly had that feeling, that someone was staring. She glanced to her right and saw Dave Karofsky across the entrance hall, standing by the water fountain, looking in her direction. But he wasn't looking at her, his eyes stared past her at someone else. Santana huffed and thundered toward him, frowning. He didn't even seem to notice her approaching.

"Stop that, it's creepy," she warned him in a low growl.

"What?" he said like he hadn't heard her at all.

"Stop staring at him."

"I'm- I'm not- what?"

"You keep ogling him like that, in that very unsubtle way, people are gonna catch on, and then what are you gonna do?" Santana gave him a knowing look.

"I'm not looking at him," Dave said, and more self-consciously started looking around at nothing and no one in particular.

"Yes, you are. And frankly, I think I might just warn him about it, because next thing he knows you'll be watching him through a telescope while he changes in his room."

Dave looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you even listening to yourself? You're being nonsensical."

"Whoa, if your words get any bigger, I'm gonna start getting worried."

"God, you're such a bitch."

"And you're such a creep. All I'm saying is, if you weren't so afraid to come out, you staring at him would look like you just fancy him, not like you're plotting someone's murder."

"You're one to talk," he growled.

"At least I had the guts to tell the object of my affection that I'm in love with her. You, on the other hand..."

"I'm gonna walk away from you now," Dave glared at her, and he stomped away.

"That was exactly the point. Go away," Santana called after him. Shaking her head in disbelief, she walked back to her friends. She would've felt sorrier for him if he weren't such a jerk most of the time.

* * *

><p>"Okay, so we have 'The Wizard of Oz', 'Breakfast at Tiffany's', 'Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows part one', 'Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows part 2', 'Alice in Wonderland' the animated version, 'Alice in Wonderland' the crappy Tim Burton version that I don't know why we have it, 'Inception', 'Kick-Ass', 'Sweeney Todd', and the complete series of 'Lost', which is weird because I vowed I'd never buy the last season, but here it is, that must've been my dad's doing. He likes complete collections," Blaine listed, skimming through the top shelf of the DVD and Blu-ray collection in his den. He, Kurt, Mercedes and Santana had gone back to Blaine's house after Breadstix, to eat dessert and have a movie marathon, and they were promptly joined by Melrose, who unfortunately had nothing better to do on a Saturday night.<p>

"I could go on, but as you can see, my dad likes movies," Blaine said, gesturing to rest of the shelves loaded with dozens of DVD cases.

"Oh my god, we have to watch Sweeney Todd," Kurt said.

"I'd like to watch 'Inception' again," Mercedes interjected. "That rotating hallway fight scene blows my mind. And I like watching Leonardo DiCaprio."

"Well, I do to, but this is Johnny Depp singing. It almost completely trumps Leo," Kurt replied.

"Why do you kids love this Breadstix place so much? It's not like these breadsticks are that great," Melrose asked, munching on a bucketful that Santana had managed to force the waitresses to fill with breadsticks, much to her three companions' embarrassment.

"Well, excuse me if our breadsticks are not up to _mademoiselle_ Rococo's culinary expectations. I happen to love them," Santana retorted angrily, snatching the bucket out of Melrose's hands. "Go back to Paris and your croissants and macarons, and leave my breadsticks alone."

Melrose didn't protest, and instead reached for a glass of Coke. "You know, I used to do something similar in TGI Friday's, back when they did endless beverage refills. I'd stay there for three hours eating just the same plate of fries and drinking Coke and ice tea until my bladder begged me for mercy. I't's a shocker I don't have kidney stones," Melrose said, eating a handful of popcorn.

"Okay, why don't we watch 'Sweeney Todd' first, and then 'Inception'?" Blaine suggested, ignoring the pointless banter, and he barely waited for an answer before popping the DVD into the player. He plopped down next to Kurt.

"I love the blond kid singing to Joanna," Santana said between munches. "You know, he reminds me a little of Sam. He's even got big lips, just not as big." Mercedes snorted.

"First time I saw 'Sweeney Todd', I got so obsessed with it that I dressed up as Mrs. Lovett for Halloween, the same year that Fluffy here dressed up as Sweeney Todd," Melrose said.

"I remember that," Kurt said. "Please stop calling me Fluffy."

"Unfortunately we were at opposite ends of the pond, and due to my lack of a Sweeney Todd, nobody guessed who I was supposed to be. They just thought I was dressed up as a random Victorian character," Melrose said, ignoring Kurt's comment. "I'd love to do it again, I still have the full costume, but I need a Sweeney." She glanced around Kurt at Blaine and winked at him. "How about it, Mr. Anderson? Would you like to be my Sweeney?" she asked in a comically seductive tone.

"Oh, gee, Melrose, I don't know if I can pull off that Tim Burton look," Blaine said, cringing at the idea. "It's an awfully big wiry wig to fill."

"Melrose, am I to understand that you're flirting with my boyfriend?" Kurt asked in a threatening voice.

"Uh-oh, cat fight," Santana joked, chewing on three breadsticks at the same time.

"Fluffy, you know I would never do that," Melrose put a hand to her chest in mock indignation.

"Now that you called me Mr. Anderson, I remember dressing up as Neo from 'The Matrix' for Halloween about two years ago. I'm certainly nowhere near as tall as Keanu Reeves, but that was a cool costume," Blaine said.

"You dressed up as Neo? As in leather-clad Neo? Long overcoat and all? Boots, sunglasses, gun holsters?" Kurt asked, one eyebrow raised.

"What, you don't believe me?"

Kurt smiled mischievously. "I might need to see pictures of that. You know, as proof," he joked. Blaine blushed uncharacteristically.

"Get a room," Melrose said though a mouthful of popcorn.

* * *

><p>The light mood carried on for the rest of the weekend, until Monday afternoon. Santana was still gloating to Rachel about winning the duet competition over her, and making loud comments on all the workout she'd have to endure to get rid of the extra weight from all the breadsticks she ate on Saturday. Shouting ensued, and Kurt could barely hide his amusement at how irked Rachel was at all of Santana's hilarious comebacks.<p>

When school was dismissed that day, however, the high spirits plummeted.

He and Blaine were walking toward Blaine's car, at the far end of the parking lot, when they noticed a small group of guys standing around it. They couldn't have spotted them from the school building. Upon closer inspection, they realized who the guys were; members of the hockey team. They were laughing and being boisterous. One of them had a can of spray paint.

Blaine stopped dead in his tracks, and put an arm out in front of Kurt to stop him too, but Kurt had already stopped moving. He felt a cold sweat on his temple. They watched from a distance, as the guy with the spray paint, whose jersey read 'Banks' on the back above a huge 08, finished painting a big red 'F' across the black car door. He shook the can and inspected his work, before he started painting an 'A'. Kurt thought he heard one of the others say something like 'hurry up'.

"HEY!"

The hockey players, as well as Kurt and Blaine, snapped their heads in Puck's direction. The mohawked boy and Lauren were just getting in Puck's car three parking spaces away, when they noticed the group huddled around the familiar-looking black Volvo.

"What the fuck do you guys think you're doing?" Puck demanded, approaching them slowly. Lauren reached a hand to his shoulder to stop him, but he just kept going.

"None of your fucking business, Puckerman," the hockey player named Banks retorted.

"Oh, so is that your own car that you're vandalizing?"

"Whoa, Puckerman, when did you get so fucking smart and righteous?" another one of the guys replied. The others just laughed. Blaine and Kurt were rooted ten paces away. Suddenly Puck caught sight of them and looked even angrier.

"That's your car, isn't it, Blaine?" he asked.

"Noah, don't," Blaine said as quietly as he could. Kurt's mouth went dry.

"Oh hey, it's the faggot and his girlfriend," the tallest one in the group said, as they all suddenly noticed Blaine and Kurt standing nearby, too. As mortifying as it already was, Kurt sincerely hoped that this wouldn't escalate much more, considering that they were on school grounds, with so many people around. From the frightened look on the face of one of the players, Kurt knew that they hadn't intended to get caught; their poorly planned hate crime wouldn't go down well with Principal Figgins once they let him know what had happened and who had done it. Four witnesses were more than plenty.

However, it didn't do much for the fact that there was now a huge 'F-A' spelled in red across the driver's side of Blaine's XC60, or for the fact that Puck seemed to be close to getting into a lot of trouble too, from the vicious look he was giving the hockey players.

Kurt barely heard the taunting that ensued; he just saw the scared hockey player backing away, like he wanted nothing more to do with what was about to happen, and Kurt had to ignore the instinct of doing the same.

Puck continued to approach the group slowly. "That's very brave of you, writing hate on someone's car. Do you also enjoy kicking puppies and stealing from old ladies?"

"Showgirl Puckerman is standing up for his fairy friends, it's so touching," Banks taunted.

"How about I stand up on your face and shove that can of spray paint up your ass?" Puck was now in Banks's face, yelling.

"Noah, don't!" Blaine said, as controlled as he could manage, stepping forward to stop Puck. He put a hand on his arm and tried to pull him back, but the taller boy didn't budge.

"Listen to your fairy friend," Banks said.

"Very original name-calling, too. I'm impressed," Puck said, still in Banks's face.

"Just back off!" Banks shouted, shoving both boys away. Puck immediately dropped his schoolbag and lunged forward, ramming shoulder-first into Banks's midsection, like a bull

Lauren, Blaine and Kurt had no choice but to interfere more forcefully. Another one of the players backed away, standing only a few feet off, while Lauren and Blaine tried to stop the brawl. Kurt, along with Blaine, was pulling Puck off Banks, when the tall dark-haired one seized him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the other car. Kurt slammed onto the side, setting off the alarm. Most of the students in the parking lot had already been watching the encounter from a distance, but at the sudden increase of noise and action, a whole crowd formed around them, hollering and jeering.

"Hey, get off!" Blaine shouted, pulling the guy off Kurt. The two were suddenly in a brawl of their own, shoving and pulling at each other's jackets, when Melrose appeared as if out of nowhere behind them and broke them apart.

Coach Beiste had shown up too, breaking up the fight between Puck and Banks. Soon, Mr. Schuester and Finn were there too, pushing through the crowd.

"What the hell happened here?" coach Beiste demanded, holding the two boys by the back of their shirts.

"We caught them doing that to Blaine's car," Puck shouted, pointing at the black Volvo. "What do you reckon they were trying to spell?"

Coach Beiste said nothing. She let go of Puck's shirt.

"Is this true, Blaine?" Will asked.

"It's right there, Mr. Schue," Blaine answered defeatedly. Melrose picked up the discarded can of red spray paint, which had rolled under the tire of the adjacent car -alarm still making a lot of noise-, and stared at it for a moment, before instinctively thunking Banks on the head with it when coach Beiste wasn't looking. The boy was about to protest, but she gestured a threat to do it again and he kept quiet.

"Boys, we're going to Principal Figgins's office, now," coach Beiste announced, looking at the three hockey players. "I'm afraid you have to come too, Puckerman. You were still involved in this."

"This is bullshit! I was stopping them!" Puck yelled.

"Calm down, Noah, you'll just have to tell Principal Figgins what happened," Will explained.

"You do realize Figgins hates me, right? He'll find a way to punish me too."

Will ignored his protests. "Blaine, Kurt, Lauren, I need you to come too, we need your version of the story," he said. The two boys and Lauren nodded and followed. As coach Beiste led Banks away, Melrose thunked him in the head again, before following too.

Blaine cast one last glance at his defaced car, before walking behind the group.

Kurt didn't want to look at the crowd, let alone walk through it. He wanted them all to go away; the scrutiny was almost unbearable. He had a horrible flashback to prom night. He saw his friends, he saw Mercedes shaking her head; he saw Santana looking uneasy.

Then he noticed Dave Karofsky, staring at the red letters on the car. Kurt watched him for a moment, waiting for some sort of reaction. The football player just stood there on the side, transfixed.

This was the kind of thing that he was afraid kept Dave from coming out. In fact, he was afraid that it made him retreat further into denial and possibly a deep state of depression, because whether he was acting out or just looking sullen, every time Kurt caught Dave looking at him or Blaine, he could sense the conflict in his mind, of not even feeling comfortable and confident enough to be friendly with the only two people who could understand what he was going through, the heaviness of what he was hiding, and his reasons for hiding it.

He wished Dave would talk to him again, even if it was just briefly, even if they had to hide it from the rest of the school. He wanted to know if Dave was okay. As much as he still felt some resentment for the misery the jock put him through the previous year, he somewhat cared about Dave, about his plight, and he wished he could help him get rid of the fear.

But the fear reflected in Dave Karofsky's face as he watched the hockey players sneering at Blaine and Puck, the name-calling being thrown around, and the half-dried spray paint on Blaine's car door, was probably not going away any time soon.

Suddenly he caught his eye, and Dave's face was flustered and nervous as he spun on his heel and practically ran toward his car. With a sigh, Kurt watched him go, before he noticed Blaine was waiting for him, and he hurried to catch up, as the crowd finally began to disperse.

* * *

><p>"Aw man, I'm gonna get suspended again," Puck murmured miserably, sitting outside Principal Figgins's office with Will, Emma Pillsbury, coach Beiste, Melrose, Blaine, Kurt, and Finn. The hockey coach sat on the opposite couch with Roger Banks and the other two hockey players. Lauren had gone to fetch an ice pack from the nurse's office.<p>

"No, don't worry, we won't let him," Melrose said confidently.

"We'll try to talk him out of it," Will said, sighing deeply like he wasn't really that hopeful.

"Hey, he was standing up for his friend, and those idiots were perpetrating vandalism and hate crime. Not to mention they got caught in the act with plenty of witnesses, and the idiot with the spray paint actually started the fight. This would totally hold up in court," Melrose stated, glaring at the group in the other couch.

"I understand, Melrose, but Noah kind of has a history in this school. Hopefully he'll just get detention at the most," Will said.

"For what is worth, Noah," Blaine said, "thank you for what you did. I wish you hadn't gotten into trouble for it, tho."

"Hey, somebody had to stop them before you had to drive around with the word 'faggot' written on your car, right? For some reason you just stood there," Puck said with a shrug.

"What did you expect? If we had done anything, we would've gotten our asses kicked worse than we did," Kurt whispered. "There were four of them and two of us, in case you didn't notice."

"I would've jumped in anyway," Puck said. "Just don't tell Figgins that Lauren jumped in too. If he asks, the one who clipped Banks on the back was me."

"I can take it, I'm a big girl," Lauren said, walking in just then. "Pun intended. Here you go." She handed Puck the ice pack and he held it to his jaw, wincing a little.

"Whatever. If coach Beiste and Miss Rococo hadn't stepped in, we could've taken on all of them," Puck said.

Kurt smiled at the mohawked jock in admiration. Noah Puckerman had come a long way from the days when he used to toss Kurt into the dumpsters and throw slushies into people's faces. It was like a switch had been flipped inside his brain, ever since his induction into the Glee club. He never cared much for what other people thought of him, so he stood up for whatever he wanted, even if it meant kicking asses and getting in trouble -especially if it meant kicking asses-, and no outsider's opinion ever seemed to deter him. Lately it had been in his heart to stand up for Kurt, especially since he had returned to McKinley and been the target of much teasing once again. In Kurt's opinion, Puck was the most noble trouble-maker he had ever met, and a really good friend.

In the end, Principal Figgins suspended three of the hockey players, including Banks, for a week, and the third one that tried to stay out of it, Stanton, got detention for an entire week too, for vandalism and bullying and starting a fight. Puck got off with only a warning; when Blaine, Kurt and Lauren told their versions of what had happened, Puck even managed to get a sliver of admiration from Principal Figgins too. But next time he got into a fight, even if it was just for defending another friend in need, he'd definitively get suspended.

As they stepped out of the office, Blaine clapped Puck on the back and thanked him again. Puck gave him a bro fist bump, and walked away, talking with Lauren. Blaine followed Kurt distractedly down the hallway, and it didn't take Kurt any time at all to know what was in his mind.

"Come on, my dad can take care of that in a cinch," Kurt said, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder reassuringly. "You'll probably still have to leave the car in the shop for at least a day, so I'll take you home tonight and pick you up tomorrow."

Blaine attempted a smile and nodded. They walked out of the deserted school building and stepped back out onto the parking lot.

* * *

><p><em>I'm so sorry this chapter was so long. But I had too much fun writing and not a lot of fun trying to cut it shorter. I promise it won't happen again.<em>

_The moment when Blaine pulls Kurt up to stand and go claim their prize is an emulation of when Jesse Eisenberg did the same to Andrew Garfield at the Golden Globes. I just can't get over those two. Jewnicorns forever. 3._

_The 'pimping spot' is a term often used by Lyndsay Parker in her yahoo! blog about American Idol. She claims the show producers often put the contestant they're trying to 'pimp out' to the audience in the last spot, because that's the performance that stays the most fresh in their memories when it's time to vote. So naturally, I would think that Rachel would like to choose that spot whenever she gets the chance._

_I hoped you guys enjoyed this. See you again soon._

_Love, Valentina._


	6. Chapter 6

_I know it might seem like I'm trying to stretch this fanfic to last me as long as the Glee hiatus, but I've truly been very busy and very tired. I want to finish it as soon as possible, so that I can move on to others, but alas! I'm slow and easily distracted when it's really late or really early and I should be sleeping. _

_On the upside, I finished chapter six just earlier and then I realized it was way too long, so I had to split it into two parts. So at least I'll actually be posting two chapters almost back to back, to move things along. That doesn't make me any less delayed with the rest of it, but at least the thing is getting posted. _

_Hopefully you'll enjoy it more than I do. Because frankly, I'm starting to get on my nerves. I sometimes wish I had someone breathing down my neck._

_Disclaimer: Fox and RIB own this. I'm only borrowing them for my own guilty pleasure. And yours._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened Blue Eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

"Burt! The game is starting!" Finn called from his seat on the couch.

"There's barely enough room for all your friends, where do you suppose I'm gonna sit?" Burt said, walking into the living room with a bowl of chips and a beer.

It was College Football night, and the Buckeyes were playing out of state, and Finn had invited the Glee guys to watch it at the Hudmel residence. They ordered pizza and made popcorn and nacho cheese and occupied most of the living room.

"Sorry, Burt," Finn said.

"Sorry, Mr. Hummel," Mike and Artie said in unison.

"Do you want to sit here, Mr. Hummel?" Sam asked, getting up and sitting on the floor.

"Thanks, kid, that's actually _my_ chair," Burt said, sitting in the recliner, while Sam chuckled. "Since you're there, mind tossing me a slice of pizza?"

"Just the one slice, dad, that's all you're allowed," Kurt said, as Sam obeyed and served one slice of mushroom pizza and held the plate out to Burt.

"Don't boss me around in front of your friends, son, it's embarrassing," Burt joked.

"Trust me, they all know where it's coming from," Kurt replied. The boys nodded, recalling that long, dark week of watching Kurt slowly unravel while waiting for his dad to wake up from his coma.

"Whatever," Burt murmured, biting on the delicious pizza gleefully.

Only five minutes into the game, and Kurt was fighting the urge to excuse himself. Bullies were not the only reason he left the football team; he couldn't get how people found it exciting to participate in, or even watch, a game that paused every twelve seconds. Sure, when things got rolling, it was pretty cool, but the game was supposed to last an hour and somehow it stretched forever; plus, he still couldn't understand half the signals from the referees, no matter how many times Finn explained them to him; and football uniforms were just so unflattering.

Still, if he had to sacrifice a bit of his sanity to hang out with his dad, his brother, his friends, and of course, Blaine, then he guessed that was fine. They sure didn't spend enough time like this, it was nice for a change. He just wish it wouldn't drag on for so long.

"YES!" All the guys shouted and pumped their fists in the air. Kurt jumped in surprise.

"What just happened?" he asked, staring at the screen in confusion.

"Turnover," Artie said, tossing popcorn into his mouth. Kurt blinked.

"It means we have the ball now," Blaine explained in a low voice. Kurt nodded. He hadn't even known the ball had been in the other team's possession. Blaine noticed.

"You now, we don't have to watch this, we can go do something else," he whispered. Kurt shook his head. Finn cleared his throat.

"No, come on, Blaine, it's fine. I'm just not a huge fan as you guys all are," Kurt replied.

"But we can do something we both enjoy," Blaine repeated. Finn cleared his throat louder.

"Enough with the double-meanings, guys," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Blaine snickered.

"Blaine, that's sweet. But we're watching the game with our friends. We can do something we both enjoy afterwards," Kurt answered, and pecked Blaine quickly on the cheek. Finn was coughing exaggeratedly now.

"Oh, screw you, Finn, you can make out with your girlfriends wherever you go, and I can't kiss my boyfriend on the cheek in the comfort of my own home?"

"Whoa, no PDA!"

"Guys, come on!"

Kurt rolled his eyes as his friends tossed popcorn and made a big fuss. Blaine tossed the popcorn back.

"Hey, come on, we're watching the game. Behave."

"Are you talking to me, dad?"

"I'm talking to everyone. No PDAs and stop wasting food."

Kurt sat sourly looking at the TV screen as more stuff happened in the game that he didn't understand. Apparently they were winning, that's as far as he knew or cared. At least Blaine continued to explain everything to him in low whispers, so rather than paying attention to the breakdown of the plays he was giving him, Kurt was trying not to laugh at the tickling he was getting from his boyfriend's breath in his ears.

When the first quarter was over, Mike jumped up to scuttle to the bathroom downstairs, and Sam asked if he could use the upstairs one. Meanwhile, Blaine and Kurt went into the kitchen to refill their beverages, and Finn popped another bag of popcorn in the microwave.

"Are you preparing to hibernate or something?" Kurt asked as he watched his step-brother open a new can of nacho cheese and dipped a ridiculous amount of tortilla chips into it. Finn's only reply was the loud crunching of the chips in his mouth as he munched them.

"Isn't watching sports supposed to have the opposite effect on people? Inspire you to watch what you eat and work out more?" Kurt said. "You're our quarterback."

"Makes you wonder how long ago sports-watching became so strongly associated with hot dogs, nacho cheese and beer," Blaine added, reaching for a chip.

"I blame the English and their pubs," Kurt said.

"I do too. But man, was it a good idea," Burt said as he walked in, fetched another beer from the fridge and ignored the scolding look Kurt was giving him. Finn nodded and carried the food out to the living room.

"Hey, Blaine, I forgot. Your car should be ready for tomorrow, I just want to make sure the paint dries really well, so give it an extra day," Burt said, pulling the popcorn out of the microwave once it stopped beeping.

"Okay, thanks," Blaine said, attempting a smile.

"My buddy Roger who handled the paint job is gonna submit the paperwork directly to the insurance company, so you don't have to do it yourself."

"Great. Thank you so much, sir."

"Nah, you're a good kid, and those guys had no business messing with you," Burt clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head.

"Tell me about it." Blaine suddenly looked rather sullen. He took a sip from his Coke and cleared his throat when no one said anything else.

"Excuse me," he said, glancing at Kurt before leaving the kitchen. Kurt followed him with his gaze and looked at his dad.

"Thanks for helping out with that, dad. I think this was traumatizing enough for him without having to deal with insurance and stuff," he smiled.

Diet Coke in hand, he turned to rejoin his friends in the living room.

"Kurt, wait."

Kurt stopped, and took a silent deep breath before turning.

"Yes, dad?" he asked, but he already knew what his father was going to say.

"Wanna talk about what happened?"

Kurt sighed and shook his head. "We're fine, dad. Really," he said. "We both owe Puckerman a lot right now, trying to figure out how to make it up to him, since he did get clipped in the jaw and almost got detention," he said with a dismissive laugh.

"Yeah, he's a good friend," Burt said, looking toward the living room, where Puck was attempting to twirl an empty pizza box on his finger like a basketball.

"You don't seem too upset about what happened," Burt said with a curious frown.

"I was mostly worried about Blaine; I didn't want him to freak out over this. But I think he'll be fine."

Hoping the matter was settled, Kurt motioned toward the door again, but his father leaned against the counter in a manner that said clearly he wasn't done.

"Son, I was gonna wait until half-time to talk about this, but I know you probably don't want me to make a big deal out of it anyway, so I'll just tell you really straightforward," Burt said, adopting a very serious voice. "If you say the word, we'll make the transfer again."

This is what Kurt was afraid of. "Dad, no. Are you crazy?"

"I'm just saying, you have the option. We'll figure out a way to make it happen."

"Dad, thank you, but no. It's a definite no," Kurt said very seriously. "Look, I enjoyed my time at Dalton; it's a great school, I made good friends, I met Blaine, and I'm just so grateful and indebted to you and Carole for giving up your honeymoon to enroll me there."

"Son, you will never owe us anything."

Kurt smiled gratefully, but he became serious again. "But I can't hide in a super-safe school anymore. I can't run away again. Especially not with Blaine in McKinley."

"You didn't run away. Your life was threatened."

Kurt shrugged. "Yeah, well, I don't know if that was the right decision after all. It felt more like I took the easy way out, and I regret it. But I came back and I'm staying. And I'm happy Blaine came too; we both have our demons, now we get to face them together. You know, be each other's support system"

He put his beverage down on the counter. "Besides, I've got Melrose and Finn and the Glee club."

"Melrose can't protect you forever," Burt pointed out.

"Neither can Dalton," Kurt replied. "I mean, what's the difference? I'll be graduating soon, anyway, and then I'll just have to face the real world, and it's just as full of people who will never accept me. So why not stand up to all the bullies from the start?"

Burt drew out a long breath and looked up at the ceiling, uncertain.

"What about the Karofsky kid? Is he still in that Bullywhips thing?" he asked.

"No, but it's fine. I don't think you need to worry about him anymore," Kurt said. "He's genuinely sorry for the way he used to act."

"Maybe _you_ don't have to worry about him anymore, but what about Blaine? Didn't you say he recently tossed a smoothie in his face?"

"A slushie. And yes, I'm aware that he's not exactly completely rehabilitated, but he's coming along. I promise," he said, biting his lip. His dad didn't need to know everything. "Besides, slushies are not that big a deal when you think about it. Even Finn did it to me once."

He suddenly wished he hadn't said that, but it's not like Burt didn't know that Finn, like Puck, used to be one of his abusers who underwent a change of heart. He just probably didn't need to be reminded of it.

Burt, however, only scratched his neck anxiously and looked doubtful.

"You're defending Karofsky now?"

"Believe it or not," Kurt said, as if he were surprised himself.

Burt took a swig of beer distractedly, and Kurt knew he wasn't convinced yet.

"This is just something we have to do," he added in a lower voice. "Even if it means that our cars get defaced, or we get pushed around, or we get broken noses and black eyes."

"And if you get killed?"

The question lingered in the air for a second, and the boy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Ever since his return to McKinley, after Dave had said that his threat had been empty -a figure of speech, he had dared to call it-, Kurt never thought about that possibility anymore. He just couldn't. But he knew deep down that it was real. Perhaps none of the students at his school might be capable, but he knew very well, from everyday stories and news reports, that out there in the real world, there were people who could hate him that much. Meanwhile, as long as he was home, he could pretend that those were just stories, and that they were far, far away.

"Dad, don't be so melodramatic," he said quickly and dismissively. Burt suddenly became upset.

"I have every right to be melodramatic, and cautious and preventive. Not just with you, but with Blaine too. The last thing I want is my son or his boyfriend to die at the hands of bullies, just because you didn't want to seem like cowards."

Kurt perceived the sadness and worry and exhaustion in his father's voice and gaze. He had been so concerned with putting behind everything terrible that had happened to him, but he had forgotten to assure his dad that he was healed and that everything was going to be okay from now on. Burt had had it just as hard as Kurt, worried sick about everything that had happened.

He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his father's torso. It was only a moment before he felt Burt return the hug and give a deep sigh of relief.

"Dad, please don't think like this. No one is going to die. Nothing's gonna happen. We'll handle anything that comes our way," he said into Burt's shoulder. "It's going to be fine."

There was a pause, and Kurt pulled away and smiled at his father. Burt shook his head, a sad look still upon his face.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said. Kurt nodded slowly.

"I always hope that too."

* * *

><p>The more he tried to stop himself, the more he failed. He failed at concentrating in class, or at least pretending to concentrate in class, and he failed at pretending everything was normal. If he kept at it, his grades would start suffering again. <em>He<em> was already suffering; it was like he actually enjoyed torturing himself.

Santana was right. People were going to catch on if he wasn't careful.

And then what would he do?

But he couldn't help that the back of Kurt Hummel's neck was so much more interesting to him than whatever had happened in Washington and Alabama in 1963.

Dave tried to refocus his eyes on the whiteboard in the History classroom, where professor Blackburn was listing dates and names and places and droning on and on. His eyes stubbornly drifted back to Kurt whenever the boy made any move.

Right now he was rubbing a scar on the left side of his neck with his free hand while taking notes, a habit he probably didn't know he had. Dave wondered where the scar came from; he also wondered what it felt like. He counted the freckles on the smooth white skin again.

_Stop it, _he told himself. He was enjoying this too much. He felt like a complete moron.

Lately he had become more and more able to count the ways in which Kurt Hummel made his stomach flutter and his heart race, and it was mortifying. But the list kept growing: Kurt and the way his chest heaved when he took a deep breath; Kurt and how his cheeks flushed pink when he was embarrassed; Kurt and the casual way he pushed his hair off his forehead; Kurt and his perfect French pronunciation; Kurt and the way he licked his lips sometimes before he spoke.

_When did I become such a pansy? _he thought rather angrily. He made himself sick sometimes.

"Mr. Karofsky."

"Wh-huh?"

Professor Blackburn had stopped pacing the front of the classroom and was now staring frumpily at him. Slowly everyone else turned to look at him; even Kurt stopped writing on his notebook and looked over his shoulder. Dave used every ounce of willpower to avoid looking at him, and to formulate coherent sentences. What was the question?

"What is the event I'm referring to, Mr. Karofsky?"

Dave fumbled for a second. His eyes scanned his notes quickly. He had written so much stuff without noticing -Alabama arrest, civil rights bill, '_Ich bin ein berliner'... what the hell...?_-, he tried to remember anything that the teacher might have mentioned very recently, anything at all, but his mind was stumped as he felt the color rising to his face, not because everyone was staring at him, but because _he_ was staring at him too.

_Please stop looking at me, _he pleaded silently.

But then he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Kurt seemed to be trying to get his attention. He was mouthing something. Dave was too nervous to figure out what it was. Kurt tried again, slower.

_M. L. K. _

"Uh... Martin... Luther King Jr...?" he said, his voice hesitant. Kurt nodded discreetly.

"Yes, what did he do in 1963?" professor Blackburn said with an exasperated huff.

Instinctively he glanced at Kurt again, who was now mouthing something else. _I had a dream_.

"Um... he, er... delivered his _I had a dream_ speech..." he trailed off, unsure if he should say something else. But then Kurt was nodding again.

Professor Blackburn sighed and started pacing again. "Good, yes. On August 28, Luther King gave his famous speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, only months after having been arrested in..."

The voice droned on again, and Dave tuned it out, a coolness wrapping around his forehead as he felt a rush of relief. He wanted to look down at his notebook and start organizing his notes, but he looked up at Kurt once again. The boy seemed to notice the stare he was getting, because he glanced over his shoulder again. Dave smiled at him, a brief, subtle smile that he hoped conveyed his gratitude. Kurt smiled back, a sympathetic kind of smile, but only for a split second, and he was following professor Blackburn's march around the front again.

Dave's eyes lingered on Kurt's neck once more, before he focused on writing down everything that was being said. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought, kicking himself mentally. _Get a grip, Dave._

* * *

><p>"Melrose, I think your rabbit is masturbating."<p>

Melrose stuck her head into the kitchen. Kurt was looking down into the makeshift pen she had improvised in one corner, under a table, at the small gray rabbit frolicking inside. She had decided to buy a rabbit that Sunday, to have something living and breathing inside the apartment with her at nights. The only thing was, she forgot to buy a cage.

"Oh yeah, he does that," she said, noticing that the rabbit was currently doubled over into an almost perfect furball, if not for the long ears sticking up like antenna.

"Rabbits masturbate?" Kurt asked.

"All the time. Ironically, I called this one Jack. I was gonna call it 'Fluffy', in your honor, though, but..."

Kurt snorted. "Jack the Rabbit. Oh, it's two kinds of ironic," he said with an amused smile.

Melrose was having Kurt staying over for the night, since she had decided it had been long enough since her sleepover at the Hudmel residence. Burt only agreed to let Kurt spend the night on a weeknight because Melrose begged him to let her have her personal decorator help her out with the finishing touches to her flat, so she could finally have papa Burt over. However, Kurt had been there for three hours, and they had done nothing other than emptying a couple of boxes and stashing every piece of clothing back into the closet. They were already in their pajamas, making hot chocolate, and Melrose plugged in her new Blu-ray player so they could watch 'The Wizard of Oz' and 'Les Mis' before bed.

"Glad you picked that up. When I told Treebeard, he drew a blank."

"Treebeard?"

"Your brother."

Kurt made a face. "You settled for calling Finn 'Treebeard'? Frankly, I'm disappointed."

"Leave me alone. Jabs on height can only be lame or recycled," she moaned, as she brought him a large mug and they plopped down on her couch.

"Jack's rather shameless, isn't he?" Kurt continued to stare at the rabbit.

"He gets that from me," Melrose said, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Do all animals masturbate?" he asked. Melrose shrugged.

"I doubt it. But you know what they say about bunnies," she said. "I don't really know all that much about them, though. But I bought a book." She pointed at the coffee table/trunk, and the pile of books on top of it. The one at the top bore the most adorable picture of a white bunny.

"You haven't read it."

"That's what I said. I'll get around to it."

"Meanwhile the poor creature will have to find a way to survive in your clueless hands."

"Hey, did you know that dolphins are the only other animals, besides humans, who have sex for other than mating? You know, just because it's nice?" Melrose said, nursing her cup of chocolate. "I guess they are smart, after all."

"Brittany thinks dolphins are gay sharks, so please don't tell her that," Kurt replied with a chuckle.

"Dolphins can be gay. I don't know about sharks. Or was it belugas?" she looked up at the ceiling in wonder.

"I don't even know how that would work," he said, laughing again.

Melrose seemed to stare at him for a moment, analyzing him.

"Are you still embarrassed to talk about sex?"

Kurt was glad he had already swallowed the hot chocolate in his mouth, but he had to wait a moment before inhaling, so he wouldn't sound at all surprised. When had he sounded embarrassed around Melrose? About anything?

"No, but I'm kind of embarrassed to talk about dolphin sex," he said finally, trying to be funny.

"If you don't mind me asking, have you and Blaine... done the dolphin?"

Kurt practically snorted. "That's such a weird way to put it. And I'm not talking about this with you."

"Why not?" she looked indignant. "Who do talk to about this, aside from Blaine? You have to have someone to dish out too, and if you can't with your dad, or your stepmother, or most of your friends, then who do you have left, other than your big, fabulous, all-knowing sister?"

He took a deep breath. "It's not that. It's just..." he trailed off and looked at the screen. Dorothy and Toto were still in black and white Kansas.

"I get it. You haven't even talked about it with him."

Kurt shook his head slowly. "Actually we have. But... we haven't discussed it as a couple."

Melrose's eyes were wide and one of her eyebrows was twitching. "You mean you talked about it _before_ you started going out? Oh, you guys don't beat around the bush. Pun not intended."

Kurt blushed. "It's not like that. It kind of just came up."

"Was _that_ a pun?" she asked laughing.

"Stop it. I just happened to mention that I had no idea... about anything. So he told my dad that he should give me 'the talk', for my own good. And my dad's too." He could talk about it almost normally now; back then he had been so utterly embarrassed, the whole situation had been so ridiculous.

Melrose had the strangest smile.

"What?" Kurt asked, wondering what exactly she might be thinking.

"Oh nothing," she said, "just, em... did papa Burt realize at the time that your future boyfriend was totally making sure you were prepped for doing the dolphin with him?"

"Would you stop calling it that?"

"Well, wasn't he?"

Kurt dissented. "He didn't think of me that way back then."

"Oh really?"

"In fact, he was into another guy, however briefly," Kurt said bitterly, recalling the horrible Gap incident. Melrose waved her hand dismissively.

"Didn't you say that he said he was attracted to you from the moment he saw you?" she asked.

"No, I said I was."

"Oh wait, then he's the one who told me."

Kurt did a double-take.

"He told you that? What did he say?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Melrose winked.

"What did he say?" Kurt asked again.

"Hey, what do you think of my new haircut?" she abruptly changed the subject. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"It's lovely. What did he say?" he snapped.

"Who, Blaine? He also liked it. He said it's bouncy and it suits me."

"Not that!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth, and gave her a warning look. Melrose sighed, like she was about to explain something rather simple to a young child.

"Didn't he hold your hand less than a minute after meeting you for the first time? Didn't he sing 'Teenage dream' like he was singing it only to you? Did he not learn your coffee order? Come with you to McKinley football games? Try to help you out with that bully situation you were having?"

Kurt was flabbergasted. "How did I not know all this?"

"Fluffy, he was totally into you from the beginning. He said he just wasn't sure you were into him too."

"He must have known. I'm not exactly subtle," he said, his voice getting higher.

"He said that maybe he was misreading you, that maybe you were just excited to hang out with another gay kid. So he'd rather not get his hopes up. That's why he turned his attention to that Jeremiah guy."

There was a pause, and Melrose continued to drink her hot chocolate and watch Glinda the Good Witch appear in a pink bubble, while Kurt stared at her curiously.

"When did he say all this?" he asked.

"On the first day of school. After we met," she responded, eyes glued on the screen.

"What, did you interrogate him or something?"

"Oh no, of course not," Melrose looked at him like he was crazy. "We all did," she added, grinning evilly.

"_You all_? Who is 'you all'?"

"Mercedes, Quinn, Santana, Tina, Rachel and me."

"Wow, he really spilled the beans," Kurt said with a grimace.

"To be fair to him, he politely declined to comment on whether you two had done the dolphin yet or not. He said it's none of our business. And he has a very good poker face."

Kurt turned very red and sat up on the couch, nearly spilling hot chocolate everywhere.

"You did not ask him that! And stop calling it 'the dolphin'!"

"It's either quitting that or 'Fluffy'," Melrose said after a moment of thought. Kurt considered this, nostrils flaring in frustration.

"The dolphin it is," he said with a sigh. Melrose chuckled.

"Whatever, my memory sucks anyway."

Ignoring the smoldering glare he was shooting her, she smiled into her mug in satisfaction and stroked his hand condescendingly, as if soothing the beast, until he settled back against the cushions and decided to try to watch the film while attempting to forget this conversation ever happened.

"Hey, I got a haircut, a pet rabbit and a sleepover with Fluffy; all in all a good day. Let me enjoy it."

* * *

><p>Everyone seemed to be in a good mood for the rest of the week. Except maybe Sue Sylvester, who paraded down the hallways with her squad of cheerleaders and blood in her eyes.<p>

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a survivor of Flight 815?" Sue snapped at Melrose as she passed her. Melrose cocked an eyebrow.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like an abstinence ad?" she shot back. But Sue didn't seem to hear her and she continued to walk away. Melrose shook her head. "She is the Antichrist, isn't she? I'm sure doomsday theorists everywhere are looking for her," she said.

"Probably," Mercedes laughed.

"I kind of like her," Blaine said.

"Only because she seems to like you," Melrose retorted.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, a few months ago she would've still hated him," Kurt interjected. "But she kind of doesn't completely detest the Glee club anymore, after we helped out with her sister's funeral. But you weren't here at the time, so..."

"Blaine wasn't here either," Melrose pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm Kurt's boyfriend, and coach Sylvester likes Kurt. Ergo, she likes me," Blaine said.

"So I'm her only insult receptor," Melrose finished for him.

"That's not true. She still hates Mr. Schue. But, yeah, pretty much," Kurt shrugged. Melrose sighed dramatically.

"If only I cared," she said breathlessly.

"Good for you, you're gonna need that attitude," Kurt said, opening his locker and picking out stuff. Melrose gasped and reached for the metal door.

"Is this from last year's prom?" she gaped, holding a framed picture. "You guys look so cute."

Blaine glanced at the picture. It was the photograph of him and Kurt at the end of Prom night, taken by the professional photographer. Kurt was wearing his crown and had his arm around Blaine's shoulder. Blaine looked rather ecstatic, and one arm wrapped securely around Kurt's waist. The picture had been hanging from Kurt's locker door, having replaced the single shot of Blaine that used to occupy that spot. The word 'Courage' was still stuck below it, though.

"Really? Even when I was queen?" Kurt asked. Melrose nodded.

"That outfit, Your Queen, is the dog's bollocks," she replied in her best Eddie Izzard impression.

"Stop it," Kurt laughed.

"I just can't believe you wore a kilt. You're gutsy," she stared in admiration.

"I like kilts. I think they're sexy," Kurt said. Blaine and Mercedes nodded in agreement.

"I'm not disagreeing," Melrose said. "Believe me, I know. Here's proof of it."

Kurt blushed as she held the picture up like a model displaying a prize at a game show. He snatched the photo from her and hung it back on the door.

"Does your Scottish boyfriend wear one sometimes?" he asked, and realized his mistake a second too late. Melrose narrowed her eyes at him, and he bit his lip and looked as apologetic as he could, without the other two noticing. She just smiled.

"Yes. That's why I know they're sexy," Melrose replied without missing a beat.

"I'll have to try it out sometime," Blaine said. "You think I can pull it off?"

The response he got was the three others looking him up and down then nodding suggestively. Blaine blushed furiously.

"Well, I gotta go. Gotta go earn the paycheck," Melrose announced with a long sigh. "Bye, Mercedes, bye, Fluffy, bye, Flipper," she called, waving over her shoulder, and heading toward the French classroom.

"Did she just call me Flipper?" Blaine asked with a confused look. Kurt grimaced.

"I think so."

"Where did that one come from?"

"Never mind, don't try to analyze everything Melrose says. You'll go insane," Kurt said quickly.

"The other day she called me Foxy Cleopatra. I'm going to assume she was complimenting me," Mercedes offered with a shrug.

"Like I said, don't try to analyze it," Kurt said.

"All right, see you in Spanish," Mercedes said, walking away.

"Hey, after Glee club, do you wanna come watch a movie at my house? I thought I'd invite Sam and Quinn," Blaine said once she was gone. "I just got my DVD of 'The Social Network' back from Wes, who had sequestered it from the day I bought it. Quinn loves it, and Sam hasn't seen it. And I really want to watch the commentaries."

Kurt stopped rummaging for a pen and gave him a funny look.

"I know, I'm a dork. But it's a David Fincher film, and Aaron Sorkin dialogue, and it's Jesse Eisenberg and Andrew Garfield having awesome chemistry. You like Bambi Garfield, right?" Blaine continued, and smirked.

"Yeah, he is very Bambi," Kurt said with a fake dreamy sigh.

"When you say it like that it's kind of weird," Blaine chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I meant devastatingly handsome."

"And now when you say it like that it kind of makes me jealous."

"Jealous? You, Blaine Anderson, jealous of tall, British, Bambi-eyed, devastatingly handsome Andrew Garfield? Come on," Kurt joked.

"Leave me alone," Blaine pouted, and in response, Kurt pecked him on the cheek. He was about to shut his locker, when someone shoved him hard against it, sending him and some of his possessions crashing to the floor. Blaine barely had a chance to stare in shock, when he was pushed roughly too, and he lost his balance against the lockers.

"HEY!"

Blaine and Kurt looked first at the tall hockey player who had shoved them, then at the source of the voice. Melrose stood to their right, hands on her hips, and walked up to the tall boy.

"What was that, Stanton?" she asked, her voice calm.

"What?" Stanton stopped and turned and faked obliviousness. "I didn't do anything."

"Don't play up your idiocy. You shoved them into the lockers," Melrose said.

"I didn't. I bumped into them by accident," he said firmly, glaring at Kurt and Blaine. He obviously still held a grudge for having been put in detention for last week's events.

"Oh really?" Melrose pretended to be impressed.

"Really," he said, staring her down menacingly. But Melrose stared back unwaveringly, while everyone around them held their breaths and watched.

Suddenly her hand shot up in a flash, and Stanton's head snapped back with such force, it almost looked like he'd broken in two. He yelped in pain and his hands immediately went to his face.

"Oh god!" he whimpered.

"That was an accident too," she said bluntly.

"What the-"

"It's my shoulder. I have a tic. I'm seeing a doctor about it," Melrose faked embarrassment and shame.

She turned to leave as Stanton kept holding his nose with both his hands. "Don't let me catch you 'bumping' into students again. My knee might act up next time."

Some students laughed, while other gaped after her. Stanton scrambled out of the building still clutching his face and cursing under his breath.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other as the students resumed what they were doing before the 'show'. They hurried to pick Kurt's stuff up from the floor, shoved it back into his locker, and ran after Melrose.

"You never taught me how to do that," Kurt said as they caught up with her.

"Do what?" she asked.

"That thing you did to his face."

"An uppercut?"

"Yeah. You never taught me how to throw a punch and defend myself."

"Your dad was supposed to teach you those things."

"Yeah, well, I think he kind of relied on you to be my bodyguard."

"I think my dad kind of hoped I'd learn this stuff for myself. Just like with everything else," Blaine said.

"Well, I didn't really learn real self-defense until I went out with an actual instructor. Before that, all I knew I learned from movies and cartoons, so mostly stomping on feet and kicking groins," Melrose joked.

"Well, you should have taught me then," Kurt said.

"Oh, darling, I didn't know you wanted to learn."

"Melrose, I'm gay. I don't want to, I _have_ to learn how to defend myself," Kurt pointed out. "Just like you might have seen from today, or last week."

Melrose slowed down. "That's very true," she mused. "Well, I can teach you now, I guess."

"Can you teach me too?" Blained asked.

"Sure."

"Wait, you could teach a whole bunch of people," Blaine added. Melrose stopped and gave him a funny look.

"What?"

"Yeah, you could talk to Principal Figgins to let you do a self-defense course, after class, like a crash course of the basics. He can't say no; this is important stuff," Blaine explained, sounding enthusiastic.

"Oh, sure, because I have nothing better to do with my afternoons than teach a bunch of kids how to throw a decent punch," Melrose said with a roll of her eyes. Blaine's face fell.

"Oh, sorry, I guess you do probably have better things to do."

"No, that's why I said that," she replied with a look of resignation. "Did it sound like I was being sarcastic? Sorry, no, that was just a tone of utter frustration."

"Sorry your life sucks. Will you do it, then?" Kurt said. Melrose looked uncertain.

"I don't know, guys, I'm not exactly qualified."

"What are you talking about? You just teach us what you know and that's it," Blaine said.

"We could really use it. You're not gonna be around forever to defend us. You weren't around for me for a long time," Kurt said, and Melrose cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Don't try to make me feel guilty, Fluffy." She paused. "You really think I should do this?"

"It would be a great help," Kurt said.

"Okay, I'd love to," Melrose replied with a smile.

"Great!" Kurt grinned.

"Okay, I'll go talk to Figgins, and you make sure to get me students," Melrose started walking backward, in the direction of the principal's office. "Get me plenty of girls, I'd like to teach them to kick ass. Try to keep it low on wimpy kids, if you don't mind. I don't know how to handle them. Oh god, I'm getting excited. I have to go!"

She ran off, skipping like a little girl. Blaine and Kurt high-fived each other and headed to class.

* * *

><p><em>Now that I see it, it looks kind of short. But anyway, the next part will be up right away.<em>

_And sorry if Dave seems like a sap, but it seems to me that it's where this character might be headed in the future. He likes Kurt, and Kurt turns him into a sap. Next thing we know, he'll be the one doodling big hearts in his notebooks with both their names inside. We never know what to expect, with RIB, now do we?_

_And the whole 'counting the ways that he makes his stomach flutter' was kind of a reference to '500 days of Summer', one of my favorite movies. When Tom lists what he loves about Summer, but he does it so openly, because he's a hopeless romantic. Dave's not, he's not even out of the closet yet, but that doesn't mean he doesn't think about these things._

_The civil rights bill and 'I had a dream' speech bit was a suggestion by a friend; she said she'd like a 'message' about hope, because Martin Luther King Jr. spoke about tolerance, and Dave just needs a little hope in humanity that he can one day be accepted for who he is._

_I also couldn't miss the opportunity to make a reference to my adored Jewnicorns (is that term still used?), Andrew Garfield and Jesse Eisenberg, my other favorite RPF boy couple (CrissColfer is my number one). I just thought Kurt and Blaine would be the kind of boys who would fancy someone like Andrew Garfield. Or is that just me?_

_Anyway, on to chapter 7!_

_-Vale_


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, so I forgot to post it right away. But it's here now._

_This is rather shorter, but at least we're moving along, right?_

_Again, I promise this fic has a point._

_Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan, Ian, Brad, and Fox. _

* * *

><p><span>Blackened Blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

"All right! Welcome to the first annual self-defense crash course! WOO!"

Melrose pumped her fists in the air. Some of the students clapped awkwardly.

"I am _sensei_ Melrose," she added, bowing to her new students. They just stared.

"Bow to your _sensei_. Always bow to your _sensei_," she scolded them.

The group got up and did a little bow, looking at each other in confusion.

Kurt and Blaine had managed to assemble all the girls from Glee club -including Lauren, who said she actually wanted to see just how Melrose intended to teach people to kick ass in under ten classes-, Artie and Mike; several other girls; Jacob Ben Israel; most of the people in the AV club; and Puck.

"Puck, what are you doing here?" Quinn asked, annoyed.

"Allow me to explain," Melrose interjected. "This course is being taught with no additional cost to you, and therefore no profit for me. The only way principal Figgins agreed to let me teach it was under one condition: there is no budget for it. At least not for this year. So for now we'll have to do with improvised equipment," she gestured toward a bunch of battered football helmets and various other protective equipment, a few pairs of well-worn boxing gloves, some pillows, and leftover gymnastics mats, "and for demonstrations, an in-house dummy, which Puck graciously agreed to be."

"You got that right," Santana muttered.

"Don't push your luck, Lopez. This dummy can fight back."

"Settle down, kids. Now, since I'm not properly a self-defense instructor, I'll just teach you what I know in no particular order. You're my guinea pigs," Melrose said, a little too much enthusiasm on that last part.

"I feel like we're Dumbledore's Army and Melrose is Harry Potter," Blaine whispered to Kurt.

"You're such a geek," Kurt said with a laugh.

"For starters, I'd like to use the gloves and helmets," Melrose announced. "I know I'm not teaching you boxing, but at the risk of really hurting Puck, I think it's best."

"I can take it, _sensei_."

"Don't tempt me."

Kurt was eager to start. He wished he had thought of attending a self-defense class before. Maybe he wouldn't have had to leave McKinley in the first place, because maybe he would've been able to stand up to Karofsky. But then again, if he hadn't left McKinley, he wouldn't have had his time with Blaine.

Kurt looked at Blaine; the dark-haired boy was grinning just as excitedly. Kurt also wished that Blaine had taken a self-defense class sometime in his life. Then maybe he wouldn't have gotten beaten up outside that dance in his old school. And maybe he wouldn't have left his school either. Again, if things had been different, they never would've met, but it would've been nice if neither of them hadn't had to run away in fear.

_But everything happens for a reason, _Kurt told himself, feeling Blaine's hand jittering in anticipation inside his own.

Melrose cleared her throat. "Okay, first of all, you need to remember this: if you can avoid, do it."

"Second, if you can't avoid it, you have to know you have a fighting chance. As long as there are no weapons involved," she pointed out. "If you see a knife or a gun, back off. If you're being mugged at gunpoint, for example, let them take whatever they want. Nothing is worth more than your own life."

All the kids nodded in understanding.

"That being said, once the adrenaline kicks in, you can do anything, as long as you know how."

"For example," she rubbed her hands together, and pointed at someone in the group. "Kurt, could you come up here? I need a volunteer."

Kurt's eyes grew the size of golfballs.

"What? Me? Already?" he asked.

"You said you wanted to learn this stuff. Get your _derrière_ down here," Melrose beckoned him. Kurt reluctantly stood up, not before Blaine gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. The Glee girls clapped enthusiastically.

"Gloves on. You too, Puck," Melrose said, as Kurt reached her. The two boys obeyed, Kurt eyeing Puck with a hint of fear he hadn't felt in a long time; not since the days Puck used to toss him into dumpsters.

"And now, Puck, you're gonna attack him, and he's going to defend himself," Melrose announced.

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. Puck laughed to himself.

"Alright, _sensei_, whatever you say," he said, knocking his two gloved fists together.

"This is a bit rushed, don't you think?" Kurt said nervously.

"Just do what your instinct tells you," Melrose instructed.

"My instinct tells me to run or pretend to faint."

"My instinct tells me to aim at the throat," Puck smirked.

"Come on, Kurt! Kick his ass!" Santana shouted.

"Go Kurt! Go Kurt! Go Kurt!" Tina, Mercedes, Brittany and Blaine chanted.

Kurt and Puck kept walking in a circle, like a typical boxing ring dance, Kurt doing his best to keep his distance while Puck waited for his guard to go down.

"Come at me, bro," he said with a mischievous smile.

"Come on, Kurt, what does your gut tell you to do?" Melrose asked.

"Are you sure this is a legitimate way to learn this?" Kurt asked nervously, never taking his eyes off Puck. Puck must have thought he had lured him into a false sense of security, and like a cat, lunged forward to deliver a punch to Kurt's face. Kurt, however, ducked right on time, and as Puck's gloved fist narrowly missed him, Kurt punched him square in the gut.

Puck hunched over, out of air, and fell sideways, clutching at his stomach and whimpering. Kurt looked down at him in shock and shame.

"Excellent reflexes, Fluffy. Didn't know you had it in you," Melrose pointed out, as Santana stood up to clap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Puck," Kurt said, eyes wide and apologetic.

"Dude... what the hell..." Puck groaned, surprised. Kurt certainly had no idea he could punch that hard.

The rest of the group was cheering and clapping.

"You should see the look on your face," Melrose was struggling not to laugh. "Where's a videocamera when you need one?"

"Um, payback? We're even now?" Kurt said with a shrug. Puck looked confused.

"What... are you talking about..." he said.

"Dumpsters," Kurt simply said.

"Oh..." Puck kept writhing on the floor, still trying to draw a breath. Melrose recovered hers and wiped tears from her eyes.

"Karma's a bitch, isn't she?" she said with a big grin. "Fluffy, 1, Puck, 0."

* * *

><p>Everyone took turns kicking Puck's ass till it was time to wrap it up. Lauren, at the very least, had the decency to not have a go at him. But it felt like Quinn and Santana enjoyed it just a bit too much, and by the time they were through with him, his legs felt like jelly and his back felt like a rock.<p>

Blaine and Mercedes both had a mean uppercut. And Artie, being on a wheelchair and all, had the advantage of being closer to groin-height. Mike had the litheness of a dancer, and moved like a freaking ninja. Kurt's favorite move became the elbow knockout.

Everything was painful to Puck, no matter how much padding he put on. At the end of the day, Melrose felt obligated to invite him to her apartment and cook him dinner -or at least order yummy takeout- to make up for the beating he got. She ended up inviting the entire Glee club, minus Will Schuester, -for the obvious reason that he was just a party-pooper-. Had she invited him, however, maybe chaos wouldn't have ensued.

Somewhere between waiting for the chinese takeout to arrive, and watching Skins on Melrose's computer, the hostess broke out her beer stash, a few wine bottles, and suddenly it was the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza all over again; except relocated to Melrose's tiny flat, re-dubbed from then on as 'Melrose Place', where everything was smaller but there was not much stuff to break. What happened in Melrose Place stayed in Melrose Place.

As the party got underway, and the kids were a little hooked up on alcohol, Artie took over Dj duty -because 'Artie' rhymes with 'Party', as Brittany accurately put it -, going through Melrose's playlists of Gnarls Barkley, Mark Ronson and M.I.A. Puck must have started feeling better, because he and Brittany were now jumping up and down on Melrose's bed; Melrose and Santana were dancing on top of the wooden traveling trunk/coffee table. Kurt and Blaine were making out on one end of the couch, while Sam and Quinn were at the other end playing tonsil-hockey as well. Mercedes and Rachel were making a mess in the kitchen trying to make mojitos and various other cocktails. And Lauren, Finn, Mike and Tina were dancing around the table like they were hooked on cocaine. Mike and Tina seemed to be recreating scenes from Dirty Dancing.

"DANCE OFF!" Lauren yelled, and beckoned Brittany to come kick Mike's ass to the beat of Santigold.

"WHO WANTS MOJITOS!" Mercedes shrieked, and nearly spilled hers down her front because she was laughing so hard.

"OH MY GOD! I LOVE THIS SONG!" Tina shouted, pulling Finn up on the table.

"SPIN THE BOTTLE!" Rachel hollered. "WHO WANTS TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE?"

"NO WAY!" Kurt shouted.

"YES WAY!" she shouted back, nodding stupidly.

They ended up playing spin the bottle anyway. Finn had to kiss Santana, and Rachel regretted suggesting the game. Then Melrose had to kiss Mike Chang, and Tina started fuming, so Melrose only gave him a peck on the cheek, lest she would taste the Coen-Chang fury. Then Puck spun the bottle, and to everyone's amusement, it pointed to Kurt.

"Don't even think about it, Puckerman! Go away! Spin again!" Kurt yelled, looking positively horrified at the drunken glee on Puck's face.

"Come here, Hummel! Ima rock yer world!" Puck joked, crawling over Quinn to reach Kurt.

"Somebody give me a cellphone with a camera! This is priceless blackmail material!" Lauren shouted.

"You're not kissing me! Back off!" Kurt was practically squealing, trying to hide behind Blaine as the mohawked boy was nearly on top of him.

"Relax, I'm just gonna plant one on you cheek, you big baby," Puck said, grabbing Kurt's face, who was scrunching up his nose like he just tasted horrible medicine. Puck was about to kiss him, but at the last instant he stuck his tongue out and licked Kurt's face. Everyone exploded with laughter.

"EWWWWW!" Kurt yelled, pushing Puck off, who was now laughing so hard he fell back and started rolling around. Kurt rubbed his cheek desperately with the hem of his shirt. "I have drunken spit all over me! I hate you!"

"Payback, baby!" Puck said between guffaws.

* * *

><p>The last thing that anyone remembered was Melrose's downstairs neighbor knocking at the door to kindly request they turn the music down. According to Melrose, they started dropping like flies after that. The last one standing had been Santana, who had started weeping and talking about unrequited love before running to the bathroom and emptying her stomach into the toilet. That had been around one in the morning.<p>

"Well, this is pathetic," Melrose shook her head in disappointment, as she turned off the music, grabbed her purse, and went out, maybe to spend the rest of the night alone in a bar. She'd be back before they even realized she had left.

* * *

><p>"Argh! I'm coming!" Will Schuester growled as he walked toward the front door as fast as his sleep-fogged mind and body would allow him. "This better be good," he sneered, looking through the peephole.<p>

To his surprise, Melrose stood there, smiling innocently.

Before he could analyze the state of his face and hair and breath, Will was unbolting the door.

"Hey, mind if I sleep here?" she asked, leaning on the doorframe tiredly. Will blinked several times.

"What?"

"Mind if I sleep here?" she just repeated slower. "You do have a couch, don't you?"

"What are you-? Are you okay? Did something happen?" he asked groggily but alarmed.

"Everything's fine. I'm fine. I just... need a place to crash," she said, no longer waiting for him to realize he still had to invite her inside, so she just shuffled past him, and gingerly walked toward the living room. "This looks perfect," she said, gesturing toward the couch.

"What are you doing here? It's one in the morning," he asked, not knowing if he sounded impolite or just exhausted. "Are you drunk?"

"No. I just have a situation back home, it's kind of late to deal with it, but it's totally under control."

"I don't understand... What kind of situation?" Will asked, running his hands through his tousled hair and rubbing his eyes. Melrose toed off her shoes and plopped down on the couch.

"Um... okay, please don't be upset," she started, taking a deep breath, "but, um, your Glee kids are kind of in my apartment, and they kind of got drunk, and they're currently kind of passed out. All over my apartment."

Will stared in shock. "Huh?"

"They're okay. I told my next door neighbor to call the fire department if he smells smoke or something."

"I don't understand. How did this happen?"

"Well, it kind of started when I punched a hockey player at the school."

"You what?"

"He started it. He shoved Kurt and Blaine against the lockers. I just taught him a lesson."

"Melrose, you can't manhandle the students."

"Oh please, I've seen Sue throw a few tantrums. I only punched one guy and he deserved it."

Will shook his head and waved his hands dismissively.

"Ok, never mind that. I meant, how did the kids end up drunk in your apartment? Where did they get the alcohol?"

"Uh, hello?" she pointed to herself. Will huffed in exasperation.

"Melrose, how could you allow it?"

"I thought it would be fine, since I was there to supervise it. Now I realize their parents are not gonna be so fond of it."

"So what are you doing here?" he asked. He was starting to get worried, and he was not good under pressure at two in the morning when he had been sleeping.

"Well, did I mention that they're all over my apartment? I have no place to sleep," Melrose shrugged like it was no big deal. Besides, I thought I'd let you know, because surely I'll be fired by Monday morning."

Will made a noise of contempt.

"They're not gonna fire you."

"Oh yeah? How do you suppose Figgins will take it that I got a bunch of kids drunk?"

"I mean," Will almost couldn't believe he was going to say it. "No one has to know."

She stared at him wide-eyed and shocked. "Wow, it sounds so weird coming from you."

"What does?"

"The idea of being dishonest."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I wouldn't want you to get it trouble."

"Why not? I deserve. I do this all the time. Act impulsively, not think about the consequences. I should be more responsible," she said sourly. Will shook his head.

"You're just a kid. You're learning."

"Oh, how long is that going to be my excuse?"

Will sat down on the coffee table, opposite her. She didn't meet his gaze.

"Is that why you left Paris?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"No."

"Well, is it why you left that boyfriend behind?"

Melrose looked directly at him for a second and then defiantly looked away.

"I don't think you're exactly the person I would want to talk to about that. So... I'm just gonna sleep a couple of hours. Then I'll be gone, and I'll take care of my 'situation'."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, it's okay. I don't need you to be my accomplice. I can handle it myself."

"What are you gonna do?" he asked, feeling a little more awake. Melrose made a face.

"Lie to their parents. Ask them to lie for me. Nurse them until they feel better," she said, scratching her head. "I do want to keep my job, I don't want to lose it just because I made a little mistake."

"Little?" he snorted.

"Okay, a magnanimous mistake."

"Well, I promise not to tell," Will said, smiling in spite of himself.

"You're being uncharacteristically understanding about this," Melrose said, narrowing her eyes curiously at him.

"Well, I believe I've found myself in a similar situation with the kids before."

"Have you?" she asked, piqued. Will shook his head and stood up.

"That's a story for another day." He fetched a blanket from the linen closet in the laundry room, and handed it to Melrose, who was already stretching out the length of the couch.

"Hey," she called as he walked back to his room and reached for the light switch. "Thanks for being so uncharacteristically understanding."

"Thank you for coming to me for help," he smiled, and flipped off the light, and he heard the rustling of the sheets and blankets as she spread them over her. He closed his bedroom door, and took a deep breath before plopping down face-first back onto his bed. Sleep would not be easy to fall back into, especially knowing that, when he woke up that morning, she would probably already be gone.

* * *

><p>Kurt woke up with sunlight in his eyes. He yawned and rubbed his face and felt something weird against his right arm. Someone was breathing against it. He looked beside him, and saw Quinn was curled up beside him. Gingerly he removed his arm from her face and sat up.<p>

"Ow..." he groaned at the sight of all the members of New Directions lying comatose around Melrose's messy apartment. He and Quinn were balled up in the couch, while Mercedes lay sprawled on the armchair, the pitcher on her lap containing leftover watery margarita. Finn and Mike were on the carpet, lying comically face-down next to each other, and Tina was on top of both of them, using them as pillows. Looking into the bathroom, he saw Santana slumped over her new best friend, the toilet, and Brittany curled up in the bathtub. Blaine and Sam had dragged the bedspread off the bed and made a sort of nest, lying back to back on it. Lauren had taken all the pillows and cushions she could find, and she was now lying in a makeshift bed, with Jack the Rabbit nestled on her belly. Artie and Puck were on the bed, Artie lying at the foot of the bed, with Puck's feet dangerously close to his face, and his wheelchair flipped onto its side next to the nightstand.

And where was Melrose? Nowhere to be found. He tried to straighten up, and when he did, he heard the crinkling of paper in his lap. Apparently Melrose had left a note, and decided his crotch was a good place to tape it to.

_J'y reviendrai. _

_An 'Amelie' reference. Cute, _Kurt thought ruefully, balling up the paper and tossing it in Blaine's direction. He missed sorely.

There was a loud thump as the front door flew open and smacked on the wall.

Everyone snapped out of their coma and jumped.

"Good morning, everybody!" Melrose said, walking into the room carrying a tower of beverage trays, and a backpack.

"Was that a gunshot? And a dying cat talking?" Brittany muttered almost unintelligibly.

"I brought you guys coffee, and I bought the ingredients for the perfect hangover remedy. It's all complimentary, but you know what? You all owe me big time, for drinking my booze, trashing my apartment, and I'm pretty sure none of your parents have a clue of where you've been all night."

"I don't know. Maybe," Finn groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Not 'maybe'. Your phones have all been ringing and trilling and playing stupid songs all night, but you've all been too passed out to realize it," Melrose said.

"We're sorry, Melrose. Where do you want us to start?" Rachel asked, unable to open her eyes fully.

"Well, I took the liberty to text all your parents, so if any of them ask, you spent the night at Rachel Berry's house. Rachel, you spent the night at Mercedes's. But none of you were here. Ever." Melrose looked very serious as she put all the cellphones on the kitchen counter.

"What's the big deal? You're our friend, too," Sam asked.

"I'll get fired, you nitwit," she replied. "In case you've forgotten, I'm also your teacher."

"Oh. That's right... I forgot."

"They'll find out anyway. When we get home smelling like drain and vomit. Plus, I look and sound like I'm dying," Santana said.

"You can pass the hangover here, while you help me clean up."

After drinking their coffees, they all had to sit around bearing the sound of the blender as Melrose prepared the hangover cure with fruit juice, water and salt. As she passed glasses with it around, Kurt had to wonder how she could be so awake and energetic and not hungover at all. She had drunk as much as them, if not a whole lot more, and she was still up before any of them, thinking straight and looking notoriously un-zombie.

"I've never felt so horrible," Tina murmured.

"I'm never drinking again. This time for real," Mercedes said.

"Where's my wheelchair?" Artie asked.

"You guys see a rabbit, too, right?" Lauren asked, staring at Jack, who was still sitting on her lap.

"Do you guys remember anything?" Melrose asked, munching on a bagel.

"I think I tried to take a shower with my clothes on," Brittany said.

"I might've challenged Lauren to a beer-chugging competition. Unfortunately I won," Santana said.

"I think I might have licked someone," Puck said.

"Oh, my god, that was you," Kurt grimaced. "You licked my face."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Puck apologized.

"Ew," Kurt grabbed a napkin and rubbed his face with it.

"You taste like chocolate. I think," Puck mused sleepily.

"Ewwww," Kurt rubbed more frantically.

"Hey, I'm the only one who's allowed to..." Blaine mumbled, but caught himself and turned bright red. "Never mind."

"Woo-hoo!" Melrose teased.

"Don't make that noise," Blaine begged, shutting his eyes.

"Headache," Quinn rubbed her temples.

"Major headache," Finn agreed.

"Whose bra is this?" Mike asked, holding up a pink bra with white polka dots. Rachel gasped.

"That's my Hello Kitty bra. How did you get it?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She suddenly realized she was, in fact, not wearing any bra at all. Kurt wondered how, when and why she had taken it off.

"It was on my head when I woke up," Mike said sheepishly. Tina punched him in the arm and he winced. "I don't know how it got there!"

"You know what, guys? This was fun. We should do it again," Melrose mused, grinning as she sipped her orange juice. Everyone turned their zombie-looking faces toward her and glared.

* * *

><p>They cleaned and washed and picked stuff up and threw out the garbage, all in slow motion, slow, slow, painful motion, while Melrose sang "Morning Glory" at the top of her lungs along with the radio, like she's just realized she's the biggest Oasis fan. <em>Of course she would, <em>Kurt thought, glaring daggers at her while trying to ignore the thumping in his head.

"_Need a little time to rest your mind/ you know you should so I guess you might as weeeeeeeeeell / What's the story, morning glory?_ Come on, Treebeard, Fluffy, sing it!" she shouted, clapping Finn on the back as he fought the urge to hit her over the head with the broom he was using.

Eventually, once they had somewhat sobered up, everyone made it safely home.

When Melrose finally drove Finn and Kurt home, Burt and Carole were waiting for them, and no matter how much Melrose tried to convince them that it was all her fault, the three of them still got the lecturing of their lives, before the boys were allowed to go up to their rooms and rest. Meanwhile, Melrose told Burt about giving the boys their first, supervised alcoholic experience, which successfully obtained repeated claims of never drinking again, and about her new self-defense course, and they had a bit of a laugh at how Kurt and all the boys and girls had beat Puck up, all while they cooked breakfast and waited for the kids to wake up.

* * *

><p>Sometimes Dave felt so alone.<p>

He knew he just couldn't talk to anyone right now, about anything. It had been ages since he'd hung out with his friends like nothing was going on. Azimio, his closest friend, didn't even bother asking him why he wouldn't hang out like before. Maybe he didn't really care.

The thing was, they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't even try to understand; he just knew it.

He couldn't even muster the conviction to talk to his own parents. He wouldn't dream of upsetting his father any more than he already had recently; of telling him and his mom the real reason for his unruliness. They'd probably be devastated.

Even Santana was out of the question. Deep down, she was a good friend and a nice person, but most of the time she'd keep her bitch on. And all she ever did was just make Dave feel bad about himself.

Maybe that new teacher, Miss Rococo, but he ruled her out almost at once; she was one of _them_.

The Glee club.

They claimed to take pride in being different, in being outcasts, and welcoming anybody who felt like they needed a place to belong. But they never gave him a chance.

Not that he'd give himself a chance. Why would _they_? How could they, when he had threatened the life of one of them?

He'd mostly like to talk to Kurt. And he knew that Kurt wouldn't mind, that he would understand the most. But whenever Dave wanted to approach him, Kurt was with his precious boyfriend, being all giddy and giggly, or surrounded by his friends. There was barely any chance at privacy.

So he just kept it all to himself. He knew what anyone with good sense would say, that it wasn't good to bury these things, but honestly what could he be expected to do? Where and when could he let it out?

_Suck it up, _he would say to himself. _Deal with it._

Today, however, it felt way more difficult. Today he felt particularly lonely. Nobody liked mondays, and for him it meant the beginning of a very long week of feeling miserable without interruption. This monday seemed like it would never end.

It was probably due to the group of Glee morons laughing and being shrill in one corner of the cafeteria, like they were telling the most fascinating and funny stories ever, and everyone just had to know about it. Dave would swear, those idiots came back from Nationals feeling so superior, just because they had travelled out of State, because they had flown to New York, because they made it to twelfth place on a nationwide competition -twelfth place! That should've been humiliating. But for some reason they seemed to think they were better than everyone else in the school. It was pathetic.

Kurt was there, and so was Blaine, and Puck was saying something about Kurt, to which he made a face as he laughed. Rachel's and Mercedes's laughs echoed through the entire cafeteria. Even Miss Rococo was there, and she was giggling and sharing jokes too, and they were all falling over each other, guffawing like idiots.

And in the safety of that big group of friends, Blaine swung an arm around Kurt's back, curling his fingers his shoulder, while his spare hand grasped Kurt's hand and lifted it up to his lips. Kurt's reaction was a grin from ear to ear, which he dedicated to Blaine for only a split second, before turning back to Tina, who was now retelling a story. But he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

Dave felt a lump in his throat. He just had too much in his mind; he was exhausted of thinking, of overanalyzing, of hiding something for so long. He had this relentless sensation of falling, of being cold all the time, of being completely numb and disinterested.

He really needed someone to talk to. He needed to get rid of that lump in his throat.

* * *

><p><em>Oh well, on to next chapter.<em>

_By the way, the drunken dancing scene goes differently in my head. But I like the idea of Kurt being drunk and not giving a shit about anything and making out with his boyfriend in front of all his friends because he knows they're so drunk that they won't care at all._

_And the whole Will Schuester being the go-to guy when you're drunk, I think that was established in the series when he gives the Glee kids his phone number for drunken emergencies. And Melrose, as we've seen, is like one of the kids. _

_Hope you enjoyed it._

_-Vale_


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the long hiatus. Major writer's block. And when I'm not having writer's block, I'm updating other parts of the story that are not pending release. _

_Now that the Glee tour is over, and it was impossible for me to fly to London or Dublin to see any of the shows (stupid broken leg), I guess all I really have to cope with the hiatus is to write. Also, now that my leg is broken, I spend a lot of time in front of the computer, and I guess I should take the opportunity to get this story done as quickly as I can._

_In case you're wondering, I fell off a horse. Yeah, I know... how cliche of me._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, it belongs to Fox and RIB._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened Blue Eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

"Hey, you didn't get fired," Will greeted Melrose as she shuffled dejectedly into the choir room with Blaine, Kurt and Santana.

"No, but I'm being blackmailed by some of my students," she sighed, hopping onto the piano. "I'm starting to think Brittany is a lot smarter than we give her credit for," she glared at the blonde.

Brittany shrugged. "I don't even know how to blackmail."

"Brit, you told me you didn't finish your short story in French because you were hungover all weekend, and that's why you turned up in class with a dubbed version of your show, '_Fondue Pour Deux_', which included a twelve minute interview with your cat," Melrose pointed out. "I had to give you high marks on it, because according to you it was only fair."

"Lord Tubbington doesn't speak French. That was a very difficult interview to do."

"And Rachel is complaining of back pain after having passed out on the floor of my kitchen."

"Well, I tried to sleep on the couch, but Quinn and Kurt kicked me off!"

"Did we?" Quinn looked at Kurt in confusion.

"Do you remember that? I don't remember that," Kurt just shrugged.

"Maybe we did it instinctively," Quinn tried not to grin.

"That must be it. It makes sense," Kurt agreed. Rachel all but started blowing smoke out her ears.

"But hey, you're still here, and that's what's important," Will commented. Melrose made a face.

"I have my regrets," she muttered almost inaudibly.

"Well, you'll be here to help us out with what's coming," Will said, and he turned to the class, just as Puck and Lauren entered last and went straight to their seats. "I have a new assignment slash competition for you," he announced, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "This year we have to kick some serious butt, and I really think we've done very well so far the way we've been doing things."

"As long as Finn and Rachel don't get it on onstage again," Santana interjected.

"Yeah, we've done _so well_, that we've always somehow come up short," Tina said.

"Well, we haven't been 100% right about some decisions, but I'm very happy to see how you've all grown," Will pointed out, walking back toward the whiteboard. "On that note, I think we need to focus a bit more on our influences and use that in a way to grow more into the kind of artists that we really want to become. Who influences us? Who do we look up to? Who do we relate to?"

He picked up the marker and scribbled the word 'Idols' across the whiteboard.

"Oh no, Mr. Schue, we're not doing an American Idol competition, are we?" Puck groaned.

"Can I be Fantasia?" Brittany asked.

"No, guys, it's not 'American Idol'. Just 'Idols'. As in, people whom you idolize," Will explained. "Whoever has been your biggest musical influence throughout your entire lives, or as of recent."

"Aretha Franklin," Mercedes said immediately.

"Lady Gaga," Kurt added.

"Journey?" Finn smiled.

"Barbra," Rachel said excitedly.

"Miley Cyrus," Melrose said, but she burst out laughing. "Crap, I couldn't keep a straight face."

"That's good," Will grinned. "I want each of you to show us your idol. I want you to channel your idol as best as you can; dress like them, act like them, do one of their songs, put on a good show." He looked at the excited faces of most of his students. "I want you to pick someone who has made an impact in your life, who has made you challenge yourselves. Embrace outgoing, sexy, theatrical."

The girls looked at each other excitedly. Most of the boys cringed at the word 'theatrical'.

"One condition;" Will continued, before anyone could start talking, "in the name of fairness and originality, no one can pick the following artists: Lady Gaga, Madonna, Kiss, Britney Spears, Justin Bieber, Aretha Franklin, or Barbra Streissand."

Some groans were heard, and Will felt Mercedes and Rachel were about to voice a complaint.

"Do I get to participate?" Melrose asked.

"If you want," Will said.

"Well, I want. But you have to do it too."

Will hesitated. "Maybe I will."

"I'm sorry, I thought your name was Will, not Maybe I Will."

Will rolled his eyes but couldn't help a smile. "Fine, I will."

"Mr. Schue, why no Barbra?" Rachel demanded. "She is the biggest influence in my musical career. I can't deny it, and neither should you. You said to pick someone who we look up to."

"For one thing, you've already sung Barbra before, try someone different this time. And we've had enough of that drama," Will said matter-of-factly. Rachel grabbed the edges of her seat and fumed like a child, as if it were the only thing keeping her from doing something inexcusable to the teacher.

"That's not fair," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"We're looking for new acts for the competitions. We have to keep it fresh," Will explained. "Explore another one of your influences, a different side to you."

"Yeah, you're too much like Barbra," Puck said. Rachel looked confused, like she didn't understand how that sentence could be meant as anything but a compliment. Will just continued.

"So I suggest you all start thinking about it. Pick someone good. Give a good show. A fun show."

"Yeah, you can do better than Barbra at this point. Remember that time you danced that Chicago song with Miss Holiday? That was fun," Finn said, nudging Rachel's shoulder. She sighed but nodded.

As soon as the bell rang, the kids left the room talking animatedly about their plans. Will caught up with Melrose as she headed to her office.

"So how did it really go?" Will whispered.

"How did what go?" she asked, lost.

"The whole thing with the kids in your apartment. You didn't tell me how they got home and how their parents took it."

"It was fine; they all lied for me, which would be so nice if it weren't for the fact that they're now blackmailing me," she explained, opening the door to her office and letting him in. "The only ones who know the truth are Burt and Carole, but it's okay because papa Burt knows that I'll always take good care of Kurt, no matter what."

Will nodded, not entirely sure how good those news were. Melrose plopped down onto her chair and leaned her elbows on top the desk.

"I'm sorry I somehow dragged you into this," she said somewhat forcefully. He shook his head.

"It's fine. As long as the kids are fine."

"Well, they were in the relative safety of my apartment, so they would be fine anyway."

Will stood up and started pacing the office. "I try to keep that bond with them, you know. I want them to trust me to bail them out of trouble, as long as it means that they'll be safe."

"I know, Puck told me."

Will seemed surprised by this, he almost doubted it was true. It was so odd for Puck to trust a teacher, but he guessed that the kids had taken a liking to Melrose rather quickly -except maybe Rachel-, and Will supposed it had less to do with Melrose being trustworthy as it did with her age.

"Here's the thing. I think the kids do trust you, maybe a bit too much," he started tentatively. He wondered how he could say this without hurting her or upsetting her. She seemed so touchy about her age, from the very beginning.

Melrose's brow knitted. "What do you mean? Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah, the thing is, it's not the kind of trust they have with me. It's more like, you're one of them. And I'm not entirely sure that's a good thing."

"What, are you gonna tell me I shouldn't hang out with them?"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't. I understand you've become friends, but as long as you're their teacher, you have to draw the line somewhere. You don't even behave like a regular teacher," he added, gesturing toward her neon yellow nail polish, which she was currently applying to her toes. Melrose blinked like she didn't know what he was talking about.

"What's your point?"

Will sighed. "I don't think you reflect the authority that you should. They think that you're on their side, and they think they can get away with stuff. You're too flexible, you overlook stuff they do just because you like them. And when you're not overlooking stuff, you're punching students in the face."

"Again with that? It was an accident, and he totally deserved it."

"I know you're young and you're still trying to figure stuff up, but as a figure of authority, and in this environment, you have to set an example."

Melrose stopped painting her nails long enough to look up at him. "What do you want me to do? Hold parent-teacher meetings? Give out detention? Wear vests?"

Will decided to ignore the last part. "I'd be happy to give you pointers, if you'd like. Maybe Emma can help too."

"You and Emma Pillsbury?"

"And Shannon? Why not Shannon? You like her, don't you?"

Melrose didn't say anything for a long moment, and Will almost left the office silently, but then she gave a deep sigh and leaned back on her chair.

"Maybe you're right about all this. Maybe I should hang out more with you."

Will grinned, but she spoke again before he could reply.

"Wednesday at your place. Make sure you have beer. I would contribute some, but the kids drank my entire supply, and I have no money," she said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to reply scathingly to Sue's latest e-mail regarding my appearance."

* * *

><p>"So have you guys decided which artists you're going to channel?" Sam asked.<p>

"Please don't tell me you just asked that because you saw Justin Timberlake and you're thinking of channeling _him_," Kurt said.

It was Monday evening, and Blaine had Kurt, Sam and Quinn over to finally watch 'The Social Network', so they splayed themselves on the wide couch in Blaine's den with popcorn. Quinn kept shushing them every time Armie Hammer appeared on screen, while Kurt did pretty much the same whenever it was a scene with Andrew Garfield.

"It didn't even cross my mind," Sam said, frowning indignantly. Kurt cocked an eyebrow at him until Sam waved a hand dismissively. "Ok, it darted across my mind for like a second and then it went away. Mainly because I can't rap."

"Neither can Justin," Kurt pointed out.

"You also can't dance," Blaine said.

"You're one to talk," Sam snorted.

"My dancing is better than yours."

"Then maybe you should play Justin Timberlake. All you really have to do is bleach your hair. And grow about ten inches tall."

Kurt and Quinn looked at each other, wide-eyed and agape, like they could hardly believe their ears.

"Maybe you could channel Justin Beiber again. That sounds like it was a priceless gem of insanity."

They suddenly started throwing popcorn at each other, with Kurt and Quinn in the middle covering their heads as best as they could from the flying food.

"Boys, I'm trying to watch the movie!" Quinn interrupted and swatted them both on the knees.

"He started it," Blaine mumbled, settling back on his seat.

* * *

><p>After the credits rolled, they defected to Blaine's room, chattering and messing around with his stuff. Sam played with Blaine's guitar; Quinn and Kurt splayed on the carpeted floor and shuffled through his music collection.<p>

"That was a really good film. I can't believe it didn't win at the Oscars," Sam commented.

"How would you know? You spent most of the film trying to decide with Justin song you would eventually cover for the competition," Blaine teased.

Sam shot him a look but ignored him. "I was actually thinking I would do Kurt Cobain," he said, playing with the tuning pegs.

"Wow, really? I never took you for a Nirvana fan," Kurt said.

"He wrote some deep stuff. And Nirvana is awesome," Sam replied. "I wouldn't do 'Smells like teen spirit' or anything like that, my throat might tear. I was actually thinking of 'Come as you are' or maybe 'Marigold'."

"Those are very melancholy songs, don't you think?" Quinn asked.

"That's the side of Cobain that I enjoy the most, it felt much more personal when he would sing stuff like that."

"You do realize that he died on the same year that you were born. You didn't actually ever see him perform," Kurt pointed out.

"Well, he's still an icon," Sam said.

"What about you, Quinn?" Blaine asked.

Quinn sighed as she continued to sort through a stack of film soundtracks. "I have made my pick, but I'm not telling. It's a surprise. But I'll give you a hint: 'Alice in Wonderland'." The boys all looked at each other, puzzled. "And you?" Quinn asked.

"Well, I don't have a big surprise prepared, I was thinking I'd be Bono," Blaine said.

"Bono, really? From U2?"

"Well, you certainly have the height for it," Sam joked, dodging a pillow from Blaine.

"Well, I think it's awesome. It's nice to see you stepping out of your comfort zone," Kurt smiled at his boyfriend. "It's also nice to know you won't be dressing up as Katy Perry. I don't think you can pull it off."

"How about you, Kurt?" Quinn asked.

"I still don't know," Kurt shrugged, grabbing the cds that Quinn put down.

"Aw come on," Sam said, still strumming the guitar. "You know. You just don't want to tell us."

"I'm really not sure yet," the other boy said, but Blaine shook his head when he noticed Kurt trying to keep a straight face.

"I know that look. You're bubbling with excitement." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine, I do know, but I really want it to be a surprise. I thought we were all aiming for that."

"We promise to act surprised. Tell us," Blaine said.

"I'm curious now. Is it Freddie Mercury?" Sam asked. Kurt cocked an eyebrow and sneered.

"Why? Because he was gay?"

"No, because it'd be awesome," Sam replied.

Kurt shook his head. "No, it's not Freddie."

"Too bad. I bet no one else is going to do it."

"What was the Barbra Streissand drama that I missed?" Blaine asked.

"It's a long story," Kurt said. "But it involved Finn punching Rachel in the nose and her trying to get Quinn's in replacement."

Blaine looked even more confused. Quinn shook her head.

"Okay, I'm not proud of it anymore, but I do remember thinking it was just karma out to get her."

"You guys are twisted," Blaine chuckled.

"You just wait. You'll eventually turn fully into one of us," Quinn announced.

"I don't think I can handle the drama. I'm fine like this."

"I wouldn't put it past them to traumatize you enough."

"You say that like you're not part of 'them'," Blaine said with a knowing smile.

"Well, I had enough drama these last two years, I'm steering clear," she replied.

"Even then, there's no guarantee of escaping scott-free," Sam said. "You were warned."

"You make it sound like a soap opera," Blaine chuckled.

"That's because it is," Quinn said.

"And Rachel is the head drama queen in it," Kurt added.

"She's not all that bad, is she? I mean, we've all been through stuff, but I hardly think any of them seek outright to maintain the tension. Even Rachel," Blaine said.

"Blaine, she claimed Kurt was cheating on you with Sam," Quinn pointed out, matter-of-factly.

"Hmm, point taken."

"Beware of Rachel," Sam said in an ominous tone.

"I've had enough drama in my life too," Kurt said, standing up. "For once I'd like to focus on Glee club and maintaining my grade point average, in the hopes that I can leave this town or win Nationals, whatever happens first." He put a cd in the record player, and they started bopping around like kids hooked up on sugar to the beat of the Spice Girls.

* * *

><p>Not long after Sam and Quinn left, Kurt and Blaine were back in his room, picking up all the albums that Quinn and Kurt had been sorting through, and putting them back in the cd organizer. They dragged the task along, talking as they worked, because as soon as they were done, Kurt would probably have to leave, considering it was a school night and he was expected to be back home by ten.<p>

"You do know I'll go back to school tomorrow thinking that, at any given moment, Rachel's gonna deliver some dramatic dialogue and then toss a glass of water into another girl's face, don't you?" Blaine said.

"It wouldn't truly surprise me," Kurt said. "At least we've made it this far without dramatic music playing whenever she enters a room."

Blaine snickered. "You have a weird mind, sir."

"Who are you to judge me?" Kurt pretended to demand. "When everything in your head play out like a big Broadway musical."

"What, like in 'Chicago'? Like it does in _your_ head?"

"At least _I_ don't randomly burst into song," Kurt joked. "Or have a penchant for climbing over furniture."

Blaine was about to reply sardonically, but he seemed to remember something.

"Hey, guess who I ran into?"

Kurt searched his mind briefly, knowing this was a rhetorical question. "Um... someone from Dalton?"

"No, but... um, it was Jeremiah," Blaine replied.

Kurt suddenly suffered an involuntary twitch on his cheek. "Oh?" he said as nonchalant as he could, while his stomach made a sort of backflip. Blaine was bobbing his head while wearing a weird smile upon his face.

"Tell me honestly, how was I _ever_ into him?" he asked, and Kurt's entrails kind of settled down. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Come on, he was not bad-looking," he replied, even though his cheek was still twitching slightly. But he had to admit that the fact that Blaine was now questioning the validity of the former object of his affections, like he had gone through a serious temporary madness, made Kurt's twitchy cheek turn into a compulsive smile.

Blaine sighed. "Okay, let me put it this way, then: how was I ever into him, over _you_?"

"That I cannot explain, it makes no sense whatsoever," Kurt shrugged, trying not to seem so self-satisfied.

"I know, right?"

Kurt continued to put the cds back in order. "Where did you run into him?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

"Well, he works at a travel agency now," Blaine answered. Kurt frowned, puzzled.

"And what were you doing at a travel agency?"

"Well-" he cut himself off and his eyes went wide. "Oh shit..."

Kurt didn't know whether to laugh or not, because Blaine hardly ever cursed. "What? What is it?"

"Oh... well, it was kind of... oh, bummer," Blaine was fumbling now, and he laughed nervously. Before Kurt had a chance to get nervous, Blaine smiled at him sheepishly. "I kind of had a surprise for you, but now it's been spoiled, because I said 'travel agency' and you probably already know," he bit his lip.

"I swear I don't," Kurt shook his head, still not sure if he should smile. Blaine rolled his eyes like he didn't believe him.

"Right. Well, I was going to tell you soon, anyway, so we could make plans," he shrugged. "I booked us a trip to New York."

Kurt's lungs suddenly decided to stop working. Since he didn't say anything because his windpipes and vocal chords had gone temporarily numb with excitement, Blaine continued.

"For the holidays. Not Christmas, tho, but the week of New Year's."

Kurt's stomach did another backflip, a few cartwheels and a somersault, with his heart playing a drumroll. However, as Blaine could not witness that, his shoulders slumped.

"I was aiming for a bit more enthusiasm."

"H-how...?" Kurt managed to say, regaining some control over his internal functions.

"Well, you went there and decided that's where you want to go, and I said I would go with you."

"You mean..."

"You got a chance to see how it all is; I've been there, but ages ago, I think I was eight. I thought maybe we could spend New Year's there, have a nice time together, and in the meantime, scope out the schools and look for a place to live."

Kurt blinked several times. His voice refused to work again. Blaine thought this wasn't a good sign.

"If you don't want to, I guess I could move the date or just return-" he started, but he was promptly interrupted when Kurt wrapped him in a hug. Briefly startled, Blaine snapped out of it and hugged him back, laughing quietly.

"I take it you're in agreement with the arrangements."

"You're the best boyfriend ever," Kurt mumbled into Blaine's neck, and promptly pulled away. "I don't want to sound like a jerk, but I will always be grateful for the day that Jeremiah turned you down."

Blaine let out a chortle. "I can't say that I was affected by that for very long, so whatever. His loss."

"My gain."

Blaine stared at Kurt for a moment, who was hugging one of his knees to his chest and staring adoringly at Blaine. He felt his face growing warm, and cleared his throat.

"To be honest, it was quite embarrassing at first, meeting him there, considering how he shot me down. But as I nonchalantly asked him to book a flight for me and my _boyfriend_, for a romantic vacation in New York, and seeing the flicker of realization on his face as I said this, I felt loads better," he said smugly.

"I can imagine."

"I told Wes and David about it, they found it ironic but very funny. By the way, they say hi."

"That's nice."

"They might meet us there, depending on whether David spends New Year's with his family there, too. They usually do, because his brother is studying in NYU, and David said he would invite Wes along this time. So we can make plans for..."

Blaine trailed off, noticing that Kurt was still watching him, leaning his chin onto his knee. As Blaine talked, Kurt just smiled, like he wasn't really paying attention, like he was just entranced.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, Blaine put down the last of the cds, and leaned forward to kiss Kurt. They stayed on the floor, Blaine pulling Kurt closer as they deepened the kiss, with Kurt's fingers tangled in his hair, until they heard a noise from downstairs and they knew Blaine's parents were back. That was Kurt's cue to leave, and after briefly greeting Mr. and Mrs. Anderson on the way, Blaine watched Kurt get into his car and drive away. He forgot to put the rest of the cds in their respective places; he continued to smile to himself while he picked the perfect U2 song to sing for the competition.

* * *

><p>Dave didn't know why the school board bothered to include French in the curriculum as compulsory. It should be optional, for people who actually wanted to learn it, instead of just butchering the language.<p>

Not that he was any better at it. That's why he didn't want to study. But it had its advantages.

As always, Dave was annoyingly distracted by the mumbling voices trying to pronounce the phrases in the whiteboard correctly.

No, the numerous voices jumbled together were not really what caused the distraction. It was the clear, musical voice that distinguished itself from the rest, that rose a little higher, more confident, words rolling off the tongue like a song.

Dave refocused his eyes on the whiteboard ahead, but out of the corner of his eye he still saw the profile of the pale boy in the blue jacket.

Oh god, he remembered that jacket. For some reason it was embedded in his mind; Kurt blocking his path, and that guy standing next to him in that preppy uniform, offering to help him? Please. He remembered losing it for a moment and pushing Blaine against the railing; but mostly he remembered Kurt pushing him away defensively, with strength that neither knew he had, and looking at him like he detested him.

He remembered jogging away, racing all the way home that day, skipping the rest of his classes.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden noise, which also startled most students. Miss Rococo was banging on the window, trying to get it open. As soon as she did, she pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket, and lit it up.

"_N__e s'arrêtent pas,_" she said, blowing the smoke out the side of her mouth and out the window.

"_Vous êtes celui qui doit cesser. Qu'il est méchant,_" Kurt said loud enough for her to hear, and next to him, Tina laughed.

"Shut up, Fluffy."

Dave continued to be annoyed by the incessant buzzing of ill-pronouncing voices. He himself remained quiet and disinterested. One, he knew his pronunciation was embarrassing; and two, he was too engrossed. He thought he might have gotten caught by Tina a couple of times as he let himself stare at Kurt a little more obviously than he usually allowed himself. But she seemed to disregard it, or maybe it was all just in his mind.

Without realizing it, Miss Rococo was back at the front of the classroom. He hadn't even noticed her putting out her cigarette and closing the window again. He stared up at the clock above the door. Twenty minutes still left.

Miss Rococo was talking again, and he barely understood. She was setting them up in pairs, to read Baudelaire to each other. She was selecting the pairs. Dave kind of tuned out for a moment as she continued to babble in French. Tina was whispering something into Kurt's ear and he laughed from behind his hand.

"._..Finn avec... Tina... et Kurt avec..._"

In the split second that Miss Rococo looked around at Dave, he had been staring again. He collected his wits as he felt her eyes boring on him, and at the sudden noise of chairs being pushed back and people standing up. His face turned scarlet.

Miss Rococo hesitated, her eyes flicking between him and Kurt. "_Kurt avec... um..._" she said slowly, and Dave was suddenly shaking his head ever so slightly at her, and she quickly looked behind him. "Brittany."

Brittany pumped her fist. "Yes!" she whispered, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"_David avec Brett,_" Miss Rococo announced briskly, and continued to sort the pairs more randomly. Dave blew a silent sigh of relief.

_Jesus, what is wrong with me? _he thought, feeling his hands shaking as he grabbed the poetry book and looked up the poem they were supposed to read, determinately avoiding Miss Rococo's gaze, or glancing back at Kurt.

The poem he was trying to read was not making him feel better, or the fact that Brett seemed to want to run away screaming from him. Also the clock seemed to have stopped completely, torturing him.

Dave realized he was starting to freak out. She had to know; Miss Rococo must know. Otherwise why would she had bothered to avoid pairing him with Kurt. Had Kurt told her? He must have; they were friends. Kurt had promised to keep this all to himself.

He was grateful for the teacher's discretion. He noticed she didn't even try to reprimand him as he just sat there quietly, willing Brett to mind his own business. But he could feel her staring, scrutinizing. Not unkindly; not judgtngly.

Just curiously.

"_... La folie et l'horreur, froides et taciturnes..."_

That was so distracting still. Why did Kurt have to have such a peculiar voice?

The bell rang. Miss Rococo started talking again about an assignment for the next class, but Dave was too busy willing his heart to calm the fuck down, to pay any attention whatsoever. He gathered his things and followed the students navigating toward the door.

"_Café après l'école?_" Kurt asked Miss Rococo as he passed in front of her.

"_Oui, j'aime beaucoup le café,_" she replied excitedly. Dave tried to conceal himself behind Finn Hudson. He needed to get out of there and forget anything happened.

"_Monsieur_ Karofsky?"

_Shit_.

He spun on his heel as the last of the students trickled out of the classroom, and came face to face with Melanie Rococo, who had a strange look on her face.

"Hi."

"What is it?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed awfully distracted today."

"I promise I wasn't."

"Maybe I'm mistaken. But it seemed to me that you had something more interesting in your mind, than the _Fleurs du mal._"

Dave watched her intently. She appeared to be fighting a smile.

"I'm not very good at French," he replied.

"That's not true, is it?"

"Why would I lie about it?"

"Why would you... indeed."

She stared at him curiously, and he felt his ears growing hot again. Suddenly, she was standing so close that she almost had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"_Si tu l'aimes, pourquoi ne pas simplement lui dire?_"

Dave froze. Her gaze didn't waver at all, but his pulse did.

"What?" he said, almost choking. "I don't understand—what are you—I don't understand what you're saying," he started fumbling and nearly dropped his books. Because he understood everything she said. Or at least he thought he did. He wasn't that bad in French. She lowered her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm overstepping," she said, but not very genuinely.

"I have to go," he muttered, and he turned and fled. He didn't stop until he reached his locker, and then he stood there, staring blankly at the lock.

The last fifteen minutes in that classroom had been the longest of his life.

As of yet.

* * *

><p>"You guys hang out here way too much," Melrose said.<p>

"Why would you say that?" Blaine asked, as he, Melrose, Kurt, Santana, Brittany and Rachel entered the Lima Bean on Tuesday afternoon.

"Well, this is the second time we've been here today," Melrose pointed out. "Same as yesterday. And the day before. It's like 'Friends' and their Central Perk, minus Phoebe singing 'Smelly cat', or the creepy waiter who was in love with Rachel."

"The coffee is good, and I like the smells in here," Kurt explained. "Besides, when we were in Dalton, this was a meeting place for us and New Directions, since it's halfway between the two schools."

"Other than Breadstix, that is," Santana pointed out quickly.

"However, I do believe we can find our own little Central Perk once we get to New York, and then we'll totally be like 'Friends'," Rachel said as the waiter handed her her coffee.

"Wait, remind me who's who again," Kurt said, as they all walked with their coffees to an empty table.

"Finn is Ross, Rachel is Rachel, Santana is Chandler, and Brittany is Phoebe," Blaine explained.

"I didn't know Brittany was coming," Santana said, looking curious. "And why am I Chandler?"

"Because you have a snide remark about everything," Rachel replied.

"So does Kurt," Santana said.

"But Kurt is Monica," Blaine answered.

"Why am I Monica?"

"Because she's neurotic."

"I am not neurotic," Kurt looked indignant.

"She's also the prettiest out of the group," Blaine winked.

"Oh, well, in that case..." Kurt shrugged and smiled, satisfied, making Santana gag. "Wait, who are you? I thought you were Ross. Finn cannot be Ross."

"I thought I was Joey," Blaine said.

"Joey was an airhead, Blaine. You're totally Ross."

"But Joey says 'how you doin' and he gets all the ladies."

"You don't get all the ladies. You're not into ladies."

"But I'm flirty and suave," Blaine pouted.

"Oh are you now?" Kurt gave him a skeptical look.

"Hey," Blaine tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at Kurt, smiling crookedly. "How you doin'?" he said in his best Joey Tribbiani impression. Kurt stared in shock and a giggle escaped him.

"Come on," he said, blushing instinctively.

"Aha! It worked," Blaine pumped his fist victoriously, earning a shove from his boyfriend.

"This is the weirdest conversation I have participated in a while," Melrose interjected, sipping her latte.

"So basically I'm Rachel just because my name is Rachel?"

"Not just because of that. Like with Jennifer Aniston, I have this constant desire to punch you in the face," Santana explained. Rachel pushed her chair as far from her as she could.

"So, have you kids decided who your idols are?" Melrose asked.

"Yeah, I'm going with Alicia Keys," Santana said. "Grammy winner, soulful, rocking style. I'm totally her. I grew up listening to her wailing and piano-playing."

"I totally wanna do Stevie Nicks," Brittany announced, and Santana almost choked on her capuccino. "Last year when we sang 'Landslide' and all those Fleetwood Mac songs, I totally got it. She's awesome and fierce. And 'fierce' rhymes with 'Pierce', which is my last name. And I'm gonna sing 'Edge of seventeen' because I'm turning seventeen next week, so I'm on the edge."

"That's an interesting analysis, Brittany, and I never thought I'd use the words 'analysis' and 'Brittany' in the same sentence," Melrose said. "What about you, Rachel? Picked your non-Barbra idol yet?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm going very pop. Since Blaine decided to pass, I'll be representing Katy Perry," Rachel answered. "I just haven't decided which song, yet."

"Wow, really? You, Katy Perry? Miss California Gurl? That's interesting, too," Kurt said, trying not to smile wryly.

"Why is this funny to you?" Rachel demanded.

"I don't know, last year you also tried to channel Britney Spears and it was kind of creepy."

"But I thought this is what you all wanted, for me to find someone else to look up to. I look up to her; she's fun, she's not afraid to be ridiculous or poke fun at herself, she's got an amazing voice and stage presence, and she knows how to stay relevant. I think she's a really good role model." She paused. "Plus, as Brittany would say, 'Berry' rhymes with 'Perry'."

"Does it? Then it's totally you, right?" Brittany said with a smile.

"I like it," Melrose said, "it's really nice to see you step out of your comfort zone and really take on an artist that no one expects you to."

"Thank you, Melrose," Rachel gave her a nod. "Are you going to participate too, then?"

"I'm going with Florence Welch of Florence and the Machine."

Kurt's face split into a grin. "Oh, that's totally you. Which song are you doing? Oh, do 'Cosmic love'! I'll help you with the costume, the set design, it'll be awesome!" he exclaimed excitedly, and Blaine put his hand on his shoulder. "Easy, darling," he muttered.

"Fine, but it has to be today. I've got this thing tomorrow," Melrose said, grimacing into her latte.

"What thing?" Santana asked.

"Just the most embarrassing night of my life so far," Melrose replied. "A sort of parent-teacher meeting, but without the parents. At Will Schuester's house. At least there will be beer. I will need a lot of beer. A lot."

The kids didn't say anything, just stared at her. Santana had half a smile on her face.

"Wow," Rachel said.

"What?"

"You and Mr. Schue."

"Not 'me and Mr. Schue'. There's no 'me and Mr. Schue'. It's just a get-together with him, Emma Pillsbury, Shannon Beiste and a lot of beer. He thinks I hang out with you guys too much, and that I should hang out with adults more, considering I'm a teacher." Melrose looked slightly irked.

"Well, I didn't want to point this out, like _ever_, but..." Kurt bit his lip before continuing, "I get the feeling he's got a thing for you."

Melrose rolled her eyes. "I know."

"And what, you're just okay with that?"

"Isn't he with Miss Pillsbury?" Blaine asked.

"That doesn't mean he can't have feelings for someone else," Santana said. "He's a bit of a lost puppy. He had this major crush on Miss Pillsbury, but at the same time he was going for April Rhodes, and then Miss Holiday. And now," she gestured toward Melrose with her hand, and Melrose slapped it away.

"Look, it's not that I'm okay with it, but I can't be bothered about it. I've other problems, Will Schuester and whatever he thinks about me is the least of them. I just hope he figures out I'm not worth it soon enough."

The kids fell silent as Melrose sipped her coffee again and stole one of Blaine's shortbread cookies. Kurt frowned.

"Don't say stuff like that, Melrose."

"Like what?"

"You know what."

"Whatever. I don't really mean it. I just," she seemed suddenly flustered. "I don't think he's into me, anyway. I mean, I hope it's not that. I think this is just his inherent need to help people, and he thinks he's gonna help me in some way. Well, I'll just let him, if it means getting him off my case about hanging out with you guys too much. And if it involves free beer."

Rachel stared into her coffee. Blaine and Kurt exchanged looks. Santana was suddenly lost in thought.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Kurt said, in a very parental manner.

Melrose shrugged. "I never do."

* * *

><p><em>Sorry if this seemed rather short, but the way that this whole chapter was going, I had to cut it in half. I'll post the next one soon enough, since it's almost finished, too. <em>

_Yes, I am a huge Social Network fan. And yes, I do believe it was robbed at the Oscars. As well as Inception and Black Swan. And Andrew Garfield and Joseph Gordon-Levitt are jewish gods. Not like the actual Jewish God, but like beautiful, spindly, hipster unicorns._

_I also looooove 'Friends'. Just in case you didn't notice._

_If there are any mistakes in French, pardon me, the thing is I don't actually speak French, and this is partially google translations and partially my boyfriend's vague recollections of studying it in school. I was hoping that my actual French-speaking friend, Anne Marie would be back from her vacation in time to help me with the French dialogue, but alas! it was not so. So screw it, I'll just try to put in French less often._

_The french poem they're reading is "La muse malade" or "The sick muse" from Charles Baudelaire's 'Fleurs du Mal'. I've read it in Spanish, and I thought it was somewhat appropriate._

_Coming up in the next chapter, performances and big revelations. I promise, it won't be long now..._

_-Vale._


	9. Chapter 9

_This one is rather long. Sorry._

_It's just that, this is kind of my performance wishlist for season 3. I wish they would do stuff like this. Not necessarily as elaborate as I might portray it, but some of it would be really awesome._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Fox and RIB and all those other writers that are coming on for season 3 do._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

On Wednesday, Dave strolled as calmly as he could into Chemistry, stopping at the doorway and looking around inside. No sign of Kurt. A part of him sighed in relief, while the rest felt a twinge of disappointment. He strode over to the back of the classroom, to one of the last available tables, while the few last students filed in and took their seats.

He barely had a chance to mull over anything, when Mr. Rowland walked in, and Kurt snuck in guiltily, half a step behind the teacher. Mr. Rowland didn't noticed Kurt tiptoeing along the wall.

Dave couldn't help a cold sweat. Kurt scanned the room quickly and saw the only seat left was at the same table as Dave. At the adjacent table, Quinn and Mike noticed too, and they watched curiously as Kurt hurried over and sat down before Mr. Rowland turned to the class and started talking.

"Hey," Kurt said, dropping his bag onto the table and pulling out his chemistry book. Dave tried to reply, but his voice got caught in his throat. He caught Quinn and Mike still staring at him warily, but they eventually turned toward the front.

Mr. Rowland launched into a long and boring lecture, and then gave instructions for an experiment and questions to answer at the end. The students donned goggles and white lab coats, gathered equipment and substances, and Bunsen burners were promptly alight in all the tables.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Dave asked, halfway through.

"Of course I do," Kurt responded without missing a beat. Dave half-smiled. He was mixing chemicals and holding test tubes to the fire, and jotting down results, and Dave tried to keep up. He had never worked with Kurt before, never sat in class with him, in such close proximity. He felt suddenly warm, and he knew it had nothing to do with the bluish flame in front of him.

"Dave?"

"Mmm."

"Dave."

Dave suddenly realized Kurt had been talking to him and he hadn't been paying attention.

"I- I'm sorry. What?"

"I asked if you could pass me that other pair of thongs, please?"

"Oh, sure."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked as Dave handed him the instrument.

_No, it's been a while since I've been remotely okay, _he thought. But to his surprise, he also said it out loud. "No."

"You're... not okay," Kurt repeated.

Dave realize what he had just said, and broke into a cold sweat. "No," he repeated.

"Is it... what I suppose it is?"

_I don't think you know,_ Dave thought. _And I don't think I want you to know. _"Sort of."

Kurt stopped what he was doing completely and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Okay, I know I've said this before, but it seems like you-"

"It's not- I'm not going to-" Dave started hissing

"I know. That's not what I was going to say," Kurt cut him off, raising his voice a little. Dave saw, out of the corner of his eye, Mike glancing over his shoulder at them, but only for a moment.

"What I was going to say is, if it helps at all, you can always talk to me," Kurt continued quietly. "I wish you would. I know that you have an image to maintain and all that crap, but I'm here, and I don't mind. As long as it means you'll be okay."

Dave nodded slowly, staring intently at the blue flame instead of at Kurt. Each day it got more and more difficult to look at him in the eye.

"Did you tell your friend about me?" he asked before he could stop himself, finally looking up.

Not "thanks", not "I know", but an accusatory question. _Idiot_, he kicked himself mentally.

Kurt's piercing blue eyes blinked at him from behind the plastic goggles, and Dave's mind stumbled. How is it even possible for anyone to look good in those dorky goggles? Trying to get his thoughts back on track, Dave cleared his throat and looked away.

"Which friend?" Kurt asked, dumbfounded. Dave tried to sound as calm as he could. No reason to get upset or nervous. He just wanted to know.

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about." _What. The. Fuck._ Dave wanted to die.

"You mean Melrose?" Kurt's eyes got a little wider.

Dave seriously hoped he didn't sound like the jerk he was. "You promised not to tell anyone else besides your boyfriend."

The other boy's lips parted in surprise, as realization dawned on him.

"I- I never would have- she was in Paris at the time. I swear I had no idea she was coming back to Lima."

There was a hint of apprehension in his voice. Dave's brow unknitted. "Oh."

"Why- how did you realize she knew?"

Dave thought quickly. "She... gave me a dirty look. I don't know, I just assumed."

"I'll tell her to be careful, I promise," Kurt said quickly. Suddenly Dave felt very bad, almost sick.

"Okay. As long as we're clear on that," he said before he could stop himself, and he sorely wished the earth would open up and swallow him. Or maybe he could dump kerosene all over himself and set himself on fire with the Bunsen burner.

"You know, it would be much easier if you would just-"

"Quit it, Hummel. I'm not- it's none of your business. I told you." _What the hell is wrong with you?_ he berated himself.

"I know. I know you think I sound like a broken record," Kurt replied with a roll of his eyes, like Dave's threatening tone did nothing to disturb him anymore. "But seriously. The worst has passed, hasn't it? I've taken the bullet for most of it. Don't you wish you could just take the leap?"

Before Dave could even intend to answer, Mr. Rowland announced that time was up. Dave and Kurt finished writing the results of the experiment and turn them in.

"No, you go ahead and turn the paper in. I'll put everything away," Dave said, gathering some of the instruments. _What a stupid, pointless gesture, _Dave thought angrily. _After being a dick to him, what difference does it make, huh? _

But in that split second as Kurt got up to walk to the front of the classroom, he smiled at Dave as he whipped the goggles off. He smiled like nothing was wrong, like there had never been nothing wrong between them, and Dave felt a bit like he was floating.

Then Kurt was gone, and the feeling was gone, and Dave was reminded of _everything wrong_ that had happened between them. And it was like a ton of bricks falling on top of him. He watched as Kurt stood in line to hand in their paper, comparing notes with Quinn and laughing about something. As Dave and other students sorted jars and bottles into different shelves, he heard Kurt from behind him.

"See you around, Dave," he called, taking off his robe and picking up his bag. Dave barely had time to turn and say 'bye', when Kurt was already catching up to Quinn and Mike, on their way out of the classroom. Dave sighed tiredly as he finished putting everything away. He lagged behind all the others students as they headed out of the classroom.

_I'm an idiot._

* * *

><p>"Can I go home now?"<p>

Will looked up at Melrose in annoyance. The French teacher, wearing the most bored expression upon her face along with her cut-off shorts, Doc Martens boots and Ramones t-shirt, managed the most spoiled, punk bitch look he had seen in a long time from any student at McKinley.

He sighed. "It's only 8:20."

"Well, no one told me we were staying in anyway. Had I known that, I would've stayed home."

"I thought we were supposed to have a good time tonight."

"I thought so too," she said emphatically.

Wednesday night, as promised, Will had welcomed Melrose, Emma and Shannon into his home to have a few beers, watch a movie perhaps, talk and laugh, etc. He didn't know what he was really expecting to achieve with it; maybe make Melrose feel like one of the gang? But the truth was they weren't really much of a gang to begin with -unless they were dealing with some form of school drama-. As the evening wore on, things just started to become awkward.

"Come on, Will, I'm bored too," Shannon interjected. Will shot her a look.

"I'm not," Emma said, but something about her reassuring smile told Will that she was just saying that to make him feel better.

"How about we go out?" Shannon asked.

"Aye!" Melrose exclaimed, raising an empty bottle of beer.

"We shouldn't overexert ourselves. It's a school night, after all," Emma said.

"Party pooper," Shannon whispered.

"I can't even smoke in here," Melrose complained, plopping down onto the couch.

"You can't smoke anywhere anymore," Emma pointed out.

"You shouldn't smoke in the first place. It's a nasty habit," Will added. Melrose got up.

"Fine, do you have vodka or something? If we're not going out, and you've run out of beer, then I'm making martinis and we can all do a brain reset."

"Do you realize it almost sounds like you have a drinking problem?" Will said, getting angrier.

"I don't, trust me. I have a lack-of-fun problem right now. Let's do something, please! Like dancing or singing. Hey, let's go to a karaoke bar or something! We can go and make fools of ourselves!"

"I second that," Shannon said.

"That sounds nice," Emma agreed.

"I have a karaoke machine here," Will offered. Melrose looked like she wanted to murder someone.

"Okay, then, can I jump out the window?" she asked flatly.

Will was starting to lose his temper. "It's only three stories down, you might survive," he said acidly.

"And then maybe I can have a smoke," Melrose retorted.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at Shannon and Emma, who were trying not to burst out laughing. "Karaoke bar it is," he said, getting up to get his jacket. The women hooted and got up after him.

"And you're the designated driver," Melrose said smugly, handing him his car keys.

* * *

><p>"I was only joking about the pot, Will. I don't like it, especially because of the smell."<p>

"As opposed to the delicious aroma of tobacco smoke."

"It's the smell of Paris nights and New York mornings," Melrose joked, as Will half-carried her up the stairs to her apartment. It was three in the morning, on their way back from the karaoke bar, and he had just dropped off Shannon and Emma at their respective homes, and it was now time to get rid of the French nutcase.

After watching Melrose struggle with the keys for a whole minute, Will finally grabbed them from her and promptly had the door open.

The dimly lit apartment beyond was messy in a way only a girl could get it messy; clothes everywhere, makeup cluttering the bathroom sink, and lots and lots of coffee mugs and teacups sitting unwashed in the sink. There was a flower vase knocked over, and a grey rabbit was eating the daisies. Books were piled on the floor, and unhung framed posters rested against the bare walls. The kitchen phone was off its hook, nestled on the floor in the pile of cord.

Melrose dropped her purse and jacket onto the nearest piece of furniture -her ironic desk-, and unlaced her boots. "You can go away now. I know my way around my crummy apartment," she slurred.

"You're welcome, Holly Golightly," Will said sarcastically.

"I'm serious. This is embarrassing enough without you trying to baby me."

"I'm not trying to baby you."

Will watched as Melrose wobbled toward her bed almost on her own account, considering she kept tripping over everything. She toed off her boots as she went, and plopped onto bed with a groan.

"Although that was a good impersonation of a toddler learning to walk," he teased her. Melrose mumbled something against the pillow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, walking around the mess. She rolled over so she could talk.

"Sure, I'm just really tired. And tequila kind of brings me down." Her eyes remained closed.

"Would you like some aspirin?"

"You'll never find it. Don't worry about it."

"How about a glass of water?"

Melrose stretched in bed and yawned. "Okay..." she said breathily, and started taking off her top. Will had to hurry into the kitchen. There was cool water in the fridge, and he poured a glass for himself as well. At least when he returned to her bedside, Melrose had already stripped down to her underwear and gotten under her bed-sheets.

"I'm gonna leave this for you here," he said softly, placing the glass on the bedside table.

"Mhmm..." she acknowledged, arms wrapped around her pillow now.

Will shook his head and glanced around. "I'm also gonna leave this next to your bed, in case you need it," he added, pulling over a metal trash bin.

Melrose seemed to have fallen asleep. Will drank his water, looking around curiously, when he spotted something on the dresser. Before he could stop himself, he was picking it up and opening it.

The tiny dark velvet jewelry box contained a silver ring with a single diamond. Stuck to one side of the box was a tiny note. Will unfolded it.

_'I'm sorry, Terry.'_

Will stared in mild shock. At that moment he felt he had discerned a whole lot about the kooky girl.

With one last glance in the direction of the sleeping Melrose, Will put the ring back where he found it, put his now empty glass in the kitchen sink, and left the apartment noiselessly.

* * *

><p>He strode into the school the next day, yawning and dragging his feet. He encountered a smiling Melrose in the teacher's lounge. She was wearing sunglasses and smoking, a cup of coffee and a half-eaten banana in front of her.<p>

"Hangover?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

"Not at all," Melrose replied, removing her sunglasses, and revealing a fresh face. Will hadn't had a drop of alcohol and he sported a face that felt like a punching bag. _Damn you, Rococo,_ Will thought, resisting the urge to rub his bleary eyes.

"I have an excellent hangover remedy, I made it myself," she added, holding up a traveling mug. "Plus I puked my guts out a couple of times after you left. So I'm just peachy now."

"Well, I've gotta admit, it was fun."

"Oh, look at Shannon. She's gonna have a bit of a hard time today, isn't she?" Melrose said, scrunching her face as she watched Coach Beiste sipping her coffee with a pained look on her face. "Shannon!" Melrose called her over, and gestured to the traveling mug. "Here, have this," she offered it to the large woman as she approached. "Home-made hangover remedy."

"Oh, thank you..." Coach Beiste muttered, managing half a smile. Melrose gave her a thumbs up.

"So you remember everything that happened last night?" Will asked as Coach Beiste walked away, scurrying out the door as Sue walked in.

"Some things are vague. I do remember singing 'You give love a bad name'," she replied. "And possibly giving the waiter a lap-dance."

"I stopped you, don't worry."

"Thanks."

"Is that it?" he asked. There was a pause, and Melrose stared at him through squinted eyes. She noticed he was trying to keep a straight face.

"I took my clothes off in front of you, didn't I?" she said.

Will burst out laughing. Sue Sylvester glared at them, as if she didn't tolerate joy so early.

"I promise I didn't look," he said, laughter subsiding. She didn't even blush.

"Whatever. It's not as embarrassing as throwing up."

"That's true."

She took a bite of her banana and he pulled out a sandwich.

"I know you saw the ring," she said. Will froze and bit his lip.

"Oh..." he mumbled. There was no point in denying it. "Uh, how..."

"It wasn't exactly where I left it." She took a sip of her coffee. "Yes, I know exactly where and how I left it last, believe me; I basically look at it everyday."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" he cleared his throat, feeling the color rising to his face.

"It's fine," she said through a mouthful of banana. "You can ask me about it," she added, as if answering a question he hadn't spoken aloud. Sue interrupted briefly by walking past Melrose, snatching the cigarette out of her hand and putting it out with her bare hand. Melrose watched, mildly amused, as Sue walked away.

"It doesn't mean I'm going to answer you, but you can ask," she pulled out another cigarette and lit it.

Will leaned forward, sandwich still untouched. "Then what's the point?" he asked.

She shrugged, blowing smoke out her nose. She sipped the last of her coffee, and threw the banana peel into the nearest trash can. She picked up her mug and stood up.

"I'll see you in Glee," she said, patting him on the shoulder, "hope you didn't forget your costume."

Will stared guiltily at his sandwich. Melrose seriously reminded her of another substitute teacher; he hadn't known what to do about her either.

* * *

><p>The Glee club competition would be held in the auditorium, with the help of the drama club. Will also got the AV club to do a video recording of the performances. It was unusual, but with so many of the kids being onstage not only for their own performances but for others as well, at least it would give them a chance to see everything. Plus, they would get to keep their recordings for posterity.<p>

Meanwhile, the drama club was assisting with props, set design, costumes and lighting. Will wasn't allowed backstage, but he was able to see some of the stuff as the drama club worked incessantly, moving stuff around and testing lights, and he was already impressed; the kids had really gone all out.

"Whenever you guys are ready," Will announced, once they hit the mark and the curtain was due to go up. Everything sort of settled backstage, the band was in place, and the New Directions kids -plus a very excited Melrose- retreated to the audience to watch.

First up, Sam Evans would be singing 'Come as you are'. He stepped out with his guitar, looking like a younger Kurt Cobain, with his shaggy blonde hair and a grungy plaid shirt, baggy jeans and a forlorn expression. He walked across the stage, which had been covered in candles, and sat on the stool right in the middle. As he played and sung a stripped-down, unplugged version of the song, he sounded every bit as gritty as the ill-fated vocalist of Nirvana. It wasn't exactly competition material, but he poured his soul into it.

"Well done, Sam!" Will shouted from the seats, as the kids gave him a round of applause.

There was a five minute interval between performances, so that the kids had time for costume changes and the drama club could set up the stage props. Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Tina, Mike, Kurt and Blaine disappeared backstage next, getting ready for Quinn's performance.

When the curtain opened, Will thought he had stepped into Wonderland. The set design was made up of giant flowers, gnarly trees and colorful mushrooms. Quinn, looking rather adorable in her Alice costume, approached the microphone.

"Hello, I'm Quinn Fabray, and I will be performing as Gwen Stefani. This is 'What you waiting for'."

As the music started, the other performers stepped onto the stage: Santana, as a foxy-looking Red Queen, stood in a corner looking haughtily around; Tina was every bit as cute as the White Rabbit, glancing in alarm at a large pocket watch; Kurt and Mike were the Mad Hatter and March Hare respectively, sitting at a table covered with teapots and teacups; Blaine was perched cross-legged on top of the piano, with a narghile pipe, acting as the Caterpillar; and Brittany was the fittingly-crazy Cheshire Cat, disappearing and reappearing behind parts of the set design.

The little audience kept laughing and cheering throughout the whole performance, because everyone got so deep into their roles, it was as entertaining as watching a full-version of the play. Quinn was daunting and stylish, dancing and singing with flare unlike every before, even climbing onto the tea party table near the end of the song, much to the thrill of her onlookers.

"We could totally do that, don't you think? There are enough Wonderland characters, there would be parts for everyone," Melrose pitched gleefully to Will once the cheering and clapping had finally subsided and the performers ducked backstage.

"It's not a bad idea, but it's not usually the style for Sectionals, or any choir competition," Will explained.

"That's the beauty of it, it would be totally different to anything they've seen before."

"We'll see," Will pointed to the stage, where Finn was about to perform, with Puck's aid. They looked hot, in their aviator sunglasses and leather jackets.

"I'm going to be singing Mick Jagger's 'God gave me everything I want', with the aid of Noah 'Lenny Kravitz' Puckerman in the guitar," Finn announced. "The thing about Mick Jagger is that he's such a rock star, whether he's performing with the Rolling Stones or solo, and he manages to stay relevant. As artists, I think that's what everyone aims for, and Mick Jagger seems to be the embodiment of that."

"He's becoming frighteningly eloquent," Kurt murmured. Blaine chuckled.

The drama club worked the colored lights and smoke machine, so it looked and felt like a real rock concert. Everyone was standing up and dancing around. Finn really put his heart into it, and Puck killed it with his guitar solo.

"All right, this competition is getting tough," Will said, smiling. "Whoever is next better bring it."

The curtains opened five minutes later, revealing a group of dancers in tuxedoes -including Mike, Brittany, Melrose, Tina, Kurt and Blaine-. Without introduction, the beat to Janelle Monáe's funk-soul hit "Tightrope" began, and the dancers began to move in the crazy dancing feet style of the video, slowly revealing in the midst a tux-wearing, perfectly coiffed Mercedes. She sang effortlessly and danced like she had been dancing her entire life, emulating the original choreography almost to perfection. Artie appeared onstage to rap, while the dancers continued with the frenzied choreography, and the kids in the audience hooted incessantly.

"That was the bomb!" Melrose exclaimed excitedly. Breathless and smiling, Mercedes and her dancers bowed to the cheering audience.

"It certainly was," Will looked like his mind had been blown. He looked at his watch. "All right, we're gonna take a break so these kids can change and take a breather for their own performances. We'll be back in fifteen minutes."

* * *

><p>Melrose walked out of the girls dressing room, feeling slightly self-aware in black spandex from head to toe, with cutouts in certain places. Her hair was messy, with small braids and feathers in it, and she wore bright red lipstick. She sighed and walked up to Blaine, who stood at the mirrors of the makeup area, slicking his hair back. He wore blue-tinted glasses, jeans, leather boots, a black t-shirt and a leather jacket.<p>

"Bono, is that you?" she asked, stopping next to him. He turned and grinned.

"Florence, is that you?" he said.

"You look great. Leather jackets suit you," she raised an eyebrow approvingly.

"You look fantastic too, and..." he suddenly trailed off and pushed his glasses down his nose, to peek over them. "Oh... my god..." he muttered, his mouth hanging open. Melrose turned to see what he was looking at, and her own mouth fell open.

Kurt was walking toward them -no, not walking, strutting,- in black leather pants and laced up boots, a black shirt that clung to his torso, zipped up to his throat, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a leather cummerbund, and long fingerless leather gloves; a metal spike and chain accessory was pinned to his shoulder; his hair was up in a spiky pompadour, and his eyes were lined with plenty of dark guy-liner. He carried a studded silver walking cane.

"I take it you guys like the Adam Lambert look," Kurt said as soon as he reached them.

"Kurt, you look –um, I- I just... the-" Blaine cleared his throat. "I—I can't... I can't think straight..." Melrose almost laughed at his reaction.

"You're not supposed to think _straight_," Kurt replied, with a mischievous twitch of his eyebrow.

"I'm having weird thoughts about my little brother... this is unacceptable, Fluffy," Melrose said, slightly more eloquent than poor bumbling Blaine.

"Hey, Adam Lambert is the hottest, sexiest, badass gay guy ever. I'm just channeling him. So far, I think I'm doing a good job. Doncha think?" Kurt said, twirling the cane in his hands once.

Blaine suddenly blushed furiously. "I- You- I'm –I'm not... I've got to go."

Kurt watched him as he walked away swiftly. He blinked in surprise and a smile crept upon his face.

"Did I just totally turn on my boyfriend?" he asked gleefully.

Melrose didn't answer. She stroked the fabric hugging his arm, then withdrew her hand quickly.

"I really hate you right now," she muttered.

"Whoa, Kurt," Tina said, arriving just then. She wore a cute short patterned dress with a lace collar and black bow, black stockings and pumps, and perfect flat-iron hair. "You look so sexy," she said breathlessly, sizing him up and down.

"Thank you, Miss Lily," he said, trying not to blush.

"Sexy, yes, I'm on board with that," Santana added, showing up in a sleek black long halter jumper and cornrows in her hair.

"I think Blaine ran off to take a cold shower," Melrose said, "or maybe he went to have a quick-"

"Don't say it," Kurt interrupted, suddenly turning very red.

"What's wrong, Adam? Shy about something?" Melrose laughed.

"I think the real Adam Lambert would do you," Brittany said. She wore a long black dress with lots of chiffon layers and torn sleeves, tousled blond hair, and lips painted a dark shade of red.

"Could you all stop talking about it? I'm starting to regret not going with Ziggy Stardust as my idol."

"No regrets here. You might be gay, but I would have to be blind to not appreciate... this," Lauren said, appearing in a 1960's style grey dress, sleek hairdo, and no glasses.

"Please?" Kurt begged, squeezing his eyes shut and tapping his foot desperately. "Could someone go see what happened to Blaine? I'm worried about him."

"Uh, no, I'm not walking in on him doing whatever he might be doing right now as a result of... this," Santana said, gesturing to Kurt. "Or maybe I do want to..."

"Aaaah! Santana please!" Kurt said, this time putting his fingers in his ears.

* * *

><p>"Ladies and gentlemen, the musical stylings of Miss Alicia Keys," Sam announced into the microphone, just as Santana stepped into the spotlight. Since she didn't know how to play the piano, Brad did the piano-playing; meanwhile, Tina and Mercedes did the backup vocals.<p>

"I shall be singing 'No one'," she said sultrily. She looked briefly at Brittany as the song began.

She had never been as soulful and committed as today. Will thought he saw tears in her eyes, but the idea was dispelled when she finished the song by pointing at everyone in the audience and saying "suck on that, bitches."

"Very nice, Santana," Will said in spite of it, and clapped along with the rest of the audience.

Surprisingly, Rachel sang next, instead of taking the last spot. Dressed in midriff-baring neon spandex top and skirt, mismatched neon heels, and an over-teased coiffure, she smiled like a dork in front of the microphone. The stage had been decorated -or rather trashed- with empty bottles of beer, used paper cups, a lot of toilet paper, and random overturned furniture.

"My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be performing as Katy Perry, her rendition of 'Last friday night'. I would like to dedicate it to Miss Rococo, she kind of inspired this," she announced, smirking at Melrose, who just rolled her eyes.

This was a side of Rachel they hadn't seen –not when she was sober, at least-. She danced around, looking uncomfortable on purpose, and doing a pretty good job of channeling Katy Perry's unabashed awkwardness. Everyone got up on their feet, dancing and singing along, and Rachel seemed incredibly happy.

"All right, Rachel!" Will exclaimed when the song ended, and Rachel was curtsying as best as she could with the tiny skirt she wore. "See? I told you you didn't need Barbra."

She shook her head, smiling, and ran off the stage to hug Finn.

Brittany climbed onstage next, accompanied by Santana and Tina, who would be doing backup vocals. She approached the microphone timidly and said in a rather low voice: "Hello, my name is Brittany S. Pierce and I will be singing 'Edge of seventeen' by Stevie Nicks, because I love her, she's amazing and fierce. She reminds me of Santana a little bit," she explained in one single breath. Everyone looked at Santana briefly, and Santana blushed nervously.

The Stevie Nicks doppelgänger was edgy and gritty, and she mimicked every single Stevie gesture.

"Nice, Brittany," Will smiled at her, pleasantly surprised.

"That was unexpectedly awesome," Mercedes said commented.

There were only two performances left, Will announced, since they were running out of time: Kurt and Puck would be closing for the day, and the rest of the performances would have to wait until the next day. That included Melrose and Will.

"Does that mean we have to play dress up again tomorrow?" Melrose asked, looking down at her outfit.

"I was hoping we could all show up tomorrow wearing our outfits throughout the day, like we did two years ago, for the theatricality exercise," Will said. Some of the kids groaned, others fist-bumped.

"That's easy for you to say," Melrose complained. "You don't have to wear spandex."

* * *

><p>"Hello, my name is Adam Lambert and I will be performing my first single, 'For your entertainment'."<p>

Blaine sank in his seat, hoping it would swallow him. To his chagrin, Mike, Sam and Puck glanced knowingly in his direction. Finn looked slightly mortified, but nowhere near as Blaine. He had no idea how he was supposed to watch his boyfriend's performance _without_ having to watch it.

There was barely a trace of the sweet-looking Kurt underneath the makeup and the leather. The man dancing and singing his lungs out onstage was every bit as sizzling as the real Adam Lambert, with a fierceness and self-confidence that only a seasoned performer would display. The performance was amazing; the lighting, the choreography, the thumping bass. Kurt was really selling it.

Blaine kept his eyes focused on Santana, or Brittany, or any of the other dancers. Anyone but Kurt. He could feel heat rising up to his ears and neck every time he caught Kurt's eye by mistake. And since Kurt purposely met his eyes almost throughout the entire performance, Blaine started sweating a little bit. The fact that his boyfriend was purposely trying to turn him on was uncomfortable enough without Sam or Puck poking him all the time.

"Screw you, guys," Blaine hissed angrily.

"Good job, Kurt! Great performance, all of you," Will said to the Adam Lambert doppelgänger and his dancers. Kurt twirled his silver cane expertly before walking offstage, followed by the girls.

"That was so hot," Melrose said under her breath. Blaine didn't reply, his throat was a little dry. And Kurt was coming toward him.

"What did you think?" he asked, sitting down next to him. Blaine looked at him briefly, but Kurt's already piercing blue eyes looked even sharper with eyeliner, and it was hard to hold his gaze.

"That was good," Blaine said. He felt the color rising to his face again because Kurt was still looking at him, smiling expectantly.

"Just good?" he asked in a very soft voice.

"Kurt, leave him alone. He's trying to remember how to formulate sentences," Melrose joked. Kurt chuckled and sat back in his chair, but he grabbed Blaine's hand and intertwined their fingers.

Blaine was glad when the lights dimmed and the curtain opened again. Puck stood on the stage, in heavy metal regalia, a long black coat, a long dark wig and small round sunglasses, and screamed "ALL ABOARD!" followed by maniacal laughter. The black-clad band began playing Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy train', and Puck suddenly became the embodiment of the grandaddy of metal, hilariously moving around the stage like a 60-year-old, clapping over his head to get the "crowd" riled up, while the guitarist and bassist head-banged. Once again, with the lighting and the smoke machine, it felt like a real concert.

"Nice going, prince of darkness!" Will cheered when it was over.

"I would've gotten a foam hose, like Ozzy does in his concerts, but the drama club said I wasn't allowed to shoot foam into the stands," Puck shrugged.

"Oh, well, thanks for not doing it anyway," Will added. "Tomorrow we'll have the rest of the performances, so remember to bring your costumes and props. Everyone did brilliantly today, so the rest of the performers tomorrow have their work cut out for them."

* * *

><p>"Are you okay?"<p>

Blaine turned hesitantly toward Kurt, and was glad to see that he was back in jeans and a button shirt, and he had removed the eye makeup. He was relieved to be able to look his boyfriend in the eye without blushing furiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" he said, zipping the duffel bag where he'd carried his clothes.

Kurt leaned against the doorframe of the boys' dressing room. "I was under the impression that you didn't like me singing Adam Lambert... at all."

Blaine looked at him sadly. Kurt was suddenly avoiding his gaze.

"No, that's not it... trust me," Blaine sighed. "That's definitively not it."

"Oh, okay," Kurt nodded uncertainly.

"You were great," Blaine reassured him. Kurt smiled.

"Thanks."

"Kurt?" Finn poked his head in the door. "Hey, we've gotta go. My mom just called, she asked us to pick up dessert on our way home."

Kurt nodded. "I'll catch up," he said. Finn turned and left. Everyone was already leaving, and they were the only two left.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Blaine said. Kurt didn't respond; instead he just stepped forward and kissed Blaine. Softly at first, but as Blaine got into it, Kurt dropped his schoolbag and his fingers were suddenly running through Blaine's hair, and Blaine's hands were clutching at Kurt's hips, pulling him closer, and all he could think of was the taste and the smell and the feeling of Kurt, and he went a little weak at the knees.

They pulled back suddenly, staring at each other breathlessly, their lips as red as tomatoes. Blaine was very glad no one else came interrupting, but Kurt's hands untangled from his hair and slid down his chest slowly, keeping them there for a second. He had a very satisfied, almost devilish look upon his face, as he acknowledged what he had just done to Blaine, and with one last quick peck on his lips, he picked up his bag and walked out nonchalantly.

Blaine stood there, a little shell-shocked, hair messed up, lips raw, mind riled up and confused, staring at the door as it slowly swung shut. He shook his head in disbelief as he finished picking up his stuff and tried to fix his hair.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked, running into him as she came out of the bathroom. They walked together out of the building and toward the parking lot.

"I love Kurt," he said, walking like a zombie. "But I really hate him right now."

* * *

><p>"Melrose!"<p>

Melrose stopped dead on her tracks when she heard her name, but seeing as it was only Will Schuester, she rolled her eyes and kept going. It was too early in the morning for this.

Will caught up with her just as she was reaching her office. "Listen, about the other day," he started, even when it was clear she didn't want to hear it, "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have been looking through your stuff. But when I saw it there, I knew what it was and I think I couldn't believe it."

Melrose cocked an eyebrow. "You couldn't believe that I could be engaged?"

"You never mentioned it," Will said defensively. "I think that's the kind of thing someone mentions all the time, especially girls."

"Well, I'm not like most girls. And I'm not engaged. Not officially, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I haven't even told Kurt or papa Burt, and they're my go-to guys when it comes to personal stuff, so sorry if I don't share much with you right now. I understand that you're trying to be nice and friendly, but I don't feel that comfortable with you yet."

She took her coat off, revealing that she was wearing her spandex outfit, but she had put on a baggy sweater and miniskirt over it, and she wore her traditional boots.

Will sighed. "Well, I do understand. I've been married, after all, and divorced, so trust me, I know what it's like. It's okay if you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Melrose shook her head.

"Then what is it? Are you afraid you're making a mistake?"

"No, I'm afraid he might be making one."

Will didn't know how to reply. Melrose grabbed books and notes and started heading out the door.

"Look, I know you'd like to help me, but I really don't want to talk about it, so let it go," she said, seemingly trying to keep her temper under check. "And put on your costume, would you? Everyone is wearing their garb, what makes you think you're exempt from it?"

"This is my costume," Will replied. Melrose eyed his outfit, which consisted of pressed gray trousers, a white shirt and a grey button vest.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm Michael Bublé."

Melrose was clearly trying not to laugh now.

"Ooh, gutsy," she said sarcastically, and walked out of the office.

* * *

><p>Not unexpectedly, the Glee kids got some grief from the rest of the student body for wearing their costumes all day, but none of them really cared. The flashier ones stuck together, though; Quinn "Stefani" and Mercedes "Monáe" wouldn't go anywhere without each other, and Puck decided to walk around with a bat in his hand -the flying mammal, not the baseball gear-, if it worked slightly to discourage any slander.<p>

Blaine, however, noticed that Kurt was behaving differently. He seemed to get a decent amount of female attention, and it apparent pleased him, even though he usually wouldn't have cared at all. He walked taller, he stared more openly and seductively at Blaine, and he talked in a slightly lower register, speaking in beguiling whispers to Blaine. And plus he kept twirling that stupid cane, always with that slightly mischievous smile.

As expected, Puck, Sam and Mike teased him about it every chance they got. It was not enough that he was becoming increasingly flustered by the whole situation, they had to poke fun at him, and enjoy watching him squirm.

"Hey Blaine, that's a nice shade of blush on you. What's it called, 'Totally turned on' rouge?"

"Hey Blaine, the auditorium is vacant right now. Why don't you two go 'duet'?"

"Hey Blaine, is that a microphone, or are you just really happy to see Hummel?"

By final period, Blaine was a bit of a mess. He was sure he had gotten a question wrong during a Social Studies pop quiz because Kurt decided to stretch his arms right in front of him, he still had to perform his song for the contest, and he had made plans with Kurt to go to the movies that night but all he really wanted to do was go somewhere and have Kurt straddle him in those leather pants.

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind.

* * *

><p>"All right, Mike, take it away!" Will said.<p>

As the curtains opened on the auditorium stage that afternoon, revealing a white suit-clad Mike Chang and a group of dancers -men in dark suits, women in flapper-style dresses-, standing in the midst of a 1930's bar lounge scene, the opening notes to Michael Jackson's "Smooth criminal" began. Looking up from under the brim of his fedora, Mike started dancing like the reincarnation of the King of Pop himself. He was really singing, too; knowing that his voice was nothing impressive, he made a wise song choice, picking the Michael Jackson hit that required the least vocal expertise. However, the choreography was everything, and it was performed flawlessly by everyone. Endless spins, pelvic thrusts, they even nailed the gravity-defying lean -an amazing feat by the drama club's FX department-.

"What a way to start the second half of the competition!" Will said gleefully, clapping enthusiastically with the kids. Mike and his dancers bowed and disappeared backstage.

When the curtains opened again, the scene was a stark contrast to the previous stage. The floor was checkered black and white, the walls were lavishly wallpapered, there was a giant marble staircase and crystal chandelier painted on the background, and there were giant gift-wrapped boxes and pastel-colored balloons everywhere. Male dancers dressed like butlers stood around as Tina made her entrance and began singing Lily Allen's "The fear".

Amusingly, the boxes and balloons came alive, twirling and jumping during the chorus. Tina moved around gently in her black pumps, twirling like a little girl and doing pirouettes with the aid of the "butlers", in perfect keeping with the original video.

"That was lovely," Quinn commented.

"Very good, Tina. I especially loved the set design. You killed it," Will smiled at her as Tina helped the dancers come out of the boxes and take off the balloons. "Only three contestants left."

* * *

><p>Artie was next. He hadn't played the guitar in front of people in a long time and he was a little nervous. The curtains opened again, and he sat in the middle of the stage, decked in jeans and white t-shirt and black jacket, clutching his guitar. Behind him stood a giant wall of speakers and amps. Will hoped they weren't all plugged in, or Principal Figgins would be pissed.<p>

"Hello, I'm gonna be singing John Mayer's 'Bigger than my body', because it might as well have been written for me," he announced sheepishly.

Brittany started clapping even when the music had not started. Artie relaxed a little at the sight of her, and he signaled for the band to start playing.

Will smiled during the entire performance. He thought the song was actually pretty much about all of them, and he was amazed by how well Artie sang it, and how well he played. For someone forced to be rooted in the same spot during the whole song, Artie did a heck of a job to keep them all entranced.

"I have no words," Will said, while New Directions rose for a standing ovation. "That was... amazing."

"That's three words, Schuester," Melrose joked. Brittany rushed up to the stage to hug Artie.

To everyone's surprise -and Puck's delight-, Lauren stepped up next, and she had managed to recreate the Adele look pretty well. Her voice, however, had yet to match her polished look, and the fact that she had indeed picked the British sensation as her idol was a bit of a shock. Until she started singing.

The thumping drum beat from "Rumour has it", with the aid of back up vocalists Tina and Mercedes, paved the way for Lauren to begin her part. She was nowhere near as amazing as Adele, but Lauren was unexpectedly good. By the end of it, Puck was predictably on his feet, clapping enthusiastically, but the rest of the kids also got up to clap, including Will.

"That was fantastic, Lauren. I had no idea you had it in you," he said, grinning widely.

"All right, one more competitor to go," he added. Melrose cleared her throat loudly, and Will rolled his eyes. "Plus a performance by Miss Rococo." Another loud coughing fit. "And myself," he finished reluctantly.

* * *

><p>Blaine cleared his throat nervously before grabbing the microphone.<p>

"Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson, and I will be channeling Bono as I perform U2's "Pride (in the name of love), with the aid of Puck as The Edge," he gestured toward his guitarist, who pulled out a beanie and put it on, "Sam as a guitar-playing-and-not-bass Adam Clayton," he pointed to Sam, who grinned sheepishly, "and Finn as Larry Muller Jr. on the drums," he glanced at Finn, who twirled a drumstick in his hand.

"This song was written originally as a tribute to Martin Luther King Jr., and everything he stood for, everything he fought for, and all the difference he made in the world," Blaine explained. He took a shaky, nervous breath before continuing. "But today, I would like to dedicate it to the person who's made all the difference in the world for me."

All the girls made a collective 'aww' sound, and turned to look at Kurt. Blaine didn't dare look at Kurt in the eye, though, but he got the feeling that Kurt's reaction was a good one, judging from the giggling it elicited from the girls.

Before Finn could interject a comment about how weird it was to play a song that was meant to serenade his step-brother, Blaine signaled for them to start playing.

It was a good thing he had gone with Bono's more current style, for the tinted glasses. Under the stage lighting, he knew he could look into the audience without being noticed. He saw Kurt leaning slightly forward, a wistful look on his face, while all the girls grinned brightly up at the stage and sneaking glances in Kurt's direction every once in a while.

He tried not to get distracted by the fact that Kurt never took his eyes off of him, never stopped smiling adoringly, and he seemed to be holding his breath.

"Woo! What a finale, ladies and gentlemen!" Will stood up, clapping loudly, as "Bono" and his "U2" got a standing ovation. Blaine bowed and threw a peace sign, saying "thank you" in his best Irish accent before heading off the stage.

"That was amazing," Kurt whispered excitedly when Blaine was sitting next to him.

"I'm glad you liked it," Blaine said, blushing fiercely.

"I loved it," Kurt said, sliding his hand into Blaine's. Blaine was just glad he wasn't doing that overly seductive staring he'd been using all day.

* * *

><p>"All right, settle down, kids," Will announced, as he stood in front of the stage, holding up his hands to demand order. "I think I'm gonna need time to think about this. Everyone was so great, that I can't simply make a decision like this so quickly."<p>

There were boos and hoots of complaint from the Glee club members, and Will again made a sign for them to settle down.

"In fact, I'm considering picking three top performances, because I can't possibly pick just one."

The group suddenly buzzed with excitement.

"What's the prize, Mr. Schue?"

"Well, I'll come up with something extra for second and third place, but the winner of first place is getting a gift certificate for HMV," Will announced, holding up an envelope. The kids' eyes widened with glee, and he had to shrug. "Well, it's not much, but it's something. Also, whoever wins, I hope will also be willing to perform a solo at Sectionals, so I want to choose very carefully."

"Really?" Mercedes and Kurt said in unison.

"I've got this in the bag," Rachel said quietly to herself.

"It's too early to sing your praises, dwarf. I've probably already pummeled you," Santana declared.

"Well, I'm gonna take leave right now and see if I can come up with a decision in a bit. In the meantime," Will looked to Melrose, who was filing her nails distractedly, "I'll leave you with the musical and dancing talent of Miss Melrose."

"Huh? What?" she looked around, and the kids started clapping and cheering. Gathering her wits, she got up and curtsied, before heading up the stage.

Will walked up the stairs out of the auditorium and headed for his office, for a bit of peace and quiet while he went over his notes of each performance.

* * *

><p>As the AV club promptly brought him the recording of each performance, Will reached a decision. He hadn't realized he already knew who deserved to win the most. But stepping away from the noise and the buzz from the auditorium, he practically saw the answer before his eyes.<p>

Song choice. Heart. Guts. It all came down to those three elements.

Going once more over everything, he wrote down his picks on a piece of paper and put them in an envelope. Smiling proudly at himself for making up his mind so fast -it had barely taken him five minutes-, he stood up and headed back toward the auditorium, bopping his head to the music coming from inside.

When he got back, he had only missed the beginning of Melrose's act, and he stared in awe. The stage was a collision between of a hall of mirrors, a forest and a Christmas tree. There was light everywhere, pinpointing from all sizes of bulbs, reflecting on every mirror, and pulsating to the beat of the song. Vines hung from above, and dried leaves carpeted the stage floor. And in the middle, dancing in her full-body leotard like a deranged fairy, and singing Florence and the Machine's "Cosmic love", was Melrose. She danced like a girl dances when she thinks no one is watching, like the free spirit she was.

This was the girl who didn't seem to need anyone, who threw impromptu parties in her tiny apartment, who punched burly boys who dared to mess with her best friends, who talked back to Sue Sylvester.

Is this what it was like to be twenty two years old? Why was this girl being a substitute teacher in little old Lima, Ohio, when she could be up on a stage in Paris conquering the hearts of men?

Melrose knelt at the edge of the stage during the bridge and started singing to Kurt, holding her hands out to him. He got up and took her hands, and she pulled him up onto the stage, and twirled around him, eliciting giggles from the boy. Kurt gestured for the others to get up on the stage as well, and the girls were the first ones to obey. It didn't take much to convince the boys too, though, and soon they had all joined into the mad dancing. They lit up sparklers; it was like a Fourth of July party slash circus.

Will laughed from where he stood at the entrance, shaking his head. He walked down toward the stage as the last notes of the song drifted away, and the only sound was the tumultuous laughing and stomping around of the members of New Directions.

"Well, I certainly hope you guys had fun. I have your results here," he said, holding up the envelope. The kids stopped and turned.

"Already?" Mercedes asked.

"You said it would take you a long time," Mike pointed out.

"Well, I guess I just needed some silence for the answer to come to me," Will replied, making his way up onto the stage. "First of all, congratulations to all of you. I'm so proud of you guys, you all did such a wonderful job, you really committed to the assignment, and it was awesome to watch each and everyone of you."

Everyone looked at each other, smiling proudly.

"Now, drumroll, Finn."

Finn sprinted over to the drum kit and played a drumroll, as Will pulled out a piece of paper from the envelope dramatically.

"The winner of third place is..." he paused dramatically. "Mr. Bono."

Blaine was obviously very surprised, and Kurt and Puck had to push him forward.

"I don't have a prize for you to claim yet, but come up here," Will shrugged, and shook Blaine's hand. Everyone cheered.

"Second place goes to..." Will cleared his throat. "Miss Gwen Stefani."

Quinn looked just as surprised as Blaine, and hugged Sam briefly before running forward to hug Will.

"And in first place, it is an honor to announce..." Will held up the paper theatrically, while Finn drumrolled again.

"Miss Janelle Monáe!"

Frozen in shock, Mercedes's eyes flew wide open and she did not move, until Kurt was hugging her so tight that she almost fell over. Everyone hugged her, even Rachel, who seemed to be clapping the hardest, and Mercedes wobbled slowly toward Mr. Schue. He pulled her into a hug, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Thank you, Mr. Schue," she said tearfully. Will laughed.

"Don't thank me. You deserve this, and I would've been a fool if I hadn't recognized how brilliant you were, you always are," he patted her in the back and handed her her prize.

"You're getting a solo," Quinn whispered excitedly, squeezing Mercedes's hand.

"Well, this has been most exciting, and I'm glad you all enjoyed yourselves," Will announced in a tone of dismissal.

"Wait, Mr. Schue, what about you?" Rachel asked. Will shook his head defeatedly.

"Nah, I'm not gonna make a fool of myself up here after you've all clearly set the bar too high. Besides, I think it's high time that we all went home and got some good rest, because as of next week, we have to prepare for Sectionals!"

The kids cheered excitedly and started heading backstage.

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Will looked up to find Melrose standing around the entrance to the auditorium. She seemed to have been waiting for him.

"Hey yourself," he said with a half smile. "What are you still doing here?"

"I was helping to disassemble my set design. It was a lot of work. I'm going home now to take a much needed shower," she said, pulling her hair up in a bun.

"No parties tonight?"

"No, I'm too tired."

They walked toward the main entrance to the school, their steps echoing in the empty hallways. It was well past nine, and the janitor was waiting for the last members of Glee, drama and AV to leave, so he could close the school.

"I'm glad you picked Mercedes. She was totally my choice too," Melrose said.

"Yeah, she deserved it. Everyone was very good, but someone had to win."  
>"Sorry you didn't get to sing your song," she said sympathetically. Will waved his hand in dismissal.<p>

"It's okay. After all, you made me feel bad about picking Bublé, so I wasn't about to embarrass myself."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"I'm just kidding. But I still decided not to."

"And since when do you care about what I say, anyway?"

"Since I realized that you're more amazing than you give yourself credit for."

Will kept his eyes on the floor, hoping that Melrose wouldn't see the sudden redness of his ears. She only chuckled and looked down too. There was a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Listen," she said suddenly, "thanks for letting me do this."

"What?"

"Be a part of Glee club, in a way. It's been nice."

"You sound like you're leaving," he said with a chuckled.

Melrose didn't reply right away. They stepped out to the courtyard and the chilly night air hit them in the face, bringing a smell of rain with it. Finally, she sighed.

"Well, I am only a substitute teacher. Mrs. Brown née Moreau is bound to come back eventually, and then I'll have to find my way."

"That's true," he nodded, hoping that his sudden disappointment wasn't too obvious in his voice. He had gotten so accustomed to this girl in such a short time, that he realized he'd be sad to see her go. But most importantly, he was worried about her, about her future.

"Why did you leave Paris?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She looked at him for a long time, with an indiscernible expression, and he almost thought she was going to slap him.

"I don't know."

Will made a noise between a snort and a laugh. "You don't know why you got on a plane and flew across the Atlantic ocean to return to this boring little town?"

Melrose shrugged. "So what? It's still my boring little town. I've got family here."

"Then why didn't you bring him with you?"

Melrose avoided his eyes, and instead stared pensively up at the cloudy night sky. She seemed to hold her breath for the longest time before letting it out slowly and wistfully, as if trying to calm down.

"I wish I knew," she responded hoarsely.

Without another word, without a 'goodbye', Melrose pulled out her car keys and walked down the steps slowly, her boots making a muffled sound as she heavily climbed down toward the parking lot, leaving Will to look after her in concern, until the thunder started to roll.

* * *

><p>It started drizzling lightly outside. Kurt and Blaine were sitting inside Blaine's car. Blaine always waited for everyone else from New Directions to get into their cars before driving away. They all did; it was a way to watch out for each other.<p>

After almost five minutes of sitting there quietly, Kurt cleaning away his eye makeup with a moist towelette, Blaine staring thoughtfully through the windshield, and the only sound being the windshield wiper working slowly, Blaine took a deep breath.

"You've been acting different all day," he said before he could stop himself. Kurt looked up at him and chuckled.

"I thought I was channeling Adam Lambert."

"I know, but... I miss Kurt."

Kurt didn't respond right away. He suddenly seemed to find his shoes very interesting.

"When we were given this assignment, I thought about it a lot, and I decided that Adam was everything that I wanted right now. That maybe I could learn something from him, by pretending to be him."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked. Kurt hesitated.

"It's just... he's so talented and confident and proud of his sexuality."

"But you are all those things," Blaine replied, leaning back on his chair. Again, Kurt looked down, a blush creeping over his cheeks.

"He's... also not afraid of being... sexy."

There was a pause before Blaine shook his head.

"I thought we had been through this. You don't need to channel Adam Lambert or anyone else for that. You have this way about yourself; you're confident and funny and kind, and all those things make you very sexy." He blushed a little when he said that.

Kurt gave a shaky sigh and did not meet Blaine's eyes.

"Yeah well... I think I also need to feel wanted."

Blaine swallowed. "Wanted?" he asked hoarsely.

Kurt blushed furiously now. "I mean, I've been thinking about it lately, and... I think I'm ready, and I really wanted to... do it. With you."

Blaine felt heat rising to his face and his heart start to beat faster. "Really?" he asked breathlessly.

Still looking down, Kurt nodded very slowly. Blaine bit his lip and tried not to smile so big.

"Wait, just to confirm, did you say 'duet' or 'do it'?"

"Are you making fun of me?" Kurt asked with a small laugh.

"Not at all. Just wanted to make absolutely sure."

"Well, we've _dueted_ before..." Kurt trailed off.

Blaine didn't say anything. He just leaned over to Kurt's side and cupped his face and kissed him. He could almost feel the heat from Kurt's face as he was still blushing. Blaine felt a tingling of joy, and he kissed him deeper, and Kurt's hands snaked up to his neck and caressed just behind his earlobe, something that always drove Blaine crazy.

He couldn't believe it. It just hit him that all this time of knowing him, Kurt had no idea how sexy and desirable he really was; he had this aura of self-confidence and fragility at the same time, and that made him very desirable. His eyes alone, that soulful look of thoughtfulness, of compassion, had the uncanny ability to make Blaine's heart skip a beat.

Blaine realized long ago that he wanted to experience everything with this boy. Because everything in his mind and body shouted that Kurt was perfect and that he would be an idiot to let him go. But he had never wanted to push him. He was too afraid to ruin everything.

He broke off the kiss and just stared into Kurt's eyes, breathing heavily. He wanted to be closer to him, to feel him in every way, to keep him safe. He wanted to make Kurt feel wanted.

"I love you," he said, touching his forehead to his boyfriend's.

"And I do want you."

Kurt's eyes fluttered close, and he licked his lips.

"Really?" he said, swallowing hard.

"But I want you, not Adam Lambert. Can I have Kurt alone?" he said, hoping to reassure him. Kurt laughed.

"Of course, we can have Adam some other time," he answered. Blaine laughed too, and kissed Kurt again.

* * *

><p><em>Aaaaaand... yes.<em>

_The next chapter is where it gets interesting. Or just smutty. Or both._

_I would like to apologize for shamelessly borrowing the first kiss from 500 days of Summer for the dressing room scene. It felt right._

_Also I'd like to point out that Melrose is not really a parallel to Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's. If she were, you'd see a lot more of Terry. I just really like that film. I wanted to make a reference to it ever since Glee paid tribute to it on the season finale. But you won't see Melrose playing "Moon river" on her guitar while sitting on her fire escape ladder. Maybe in some other fic. When they're actually in New York._

_Once again, I wanted to make a reference to Martin Luther King Jr., you might see why in the future. But I found the perfect reference when I found the perfect song for Blaine to sing. I really REALLY wish Darren Criss or someone else (but especially Darren Criss) would sing this for the show. It would be so unbelievably awesome._

_-Vale._


	10. Chapter 10

_Okay, so in light of Comic Con, and finding out from the Glee panel that Chord Overstreet is definitively NOT coming back this next season, you should expect him to show up a lot more in the following chapters. I love me some Sam Evans, and I'm gonna miss him, so I'll indulge in this lovely little character a bit, while I can, if you don't mind. I can't find myself letting go so easily._

_If you'd like, the first very, VERY long scene is set (in my mind) to some Sigur Rós. I suggest 'Saeglopur' or 'Untitled 3 (Samskeyti)', since I was playing those incessantly while writing that part._

_Warning: this part contains some considerable amount of smut. _

_I'm sorry if it comes across as cheesy. It's my first time writing smut, I kind of expect it to suck (pun not intended)._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. It belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy/RIB/all those new writers they hired. This is only meant to get me safely through what remains of the hiatus._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

Before it really started pouring, they had arrived at Blaine's house. It was empty.

"Where is everybody?" Kurt asked, taking off his coat. Blaine blushed.

"My parents left this morning for a weekend conference. Conveniently enough," he added as an afterthought.

"Yeah," Kurt replied, his throat dry.

"I'll take a wild guess and say that they trust me more than I thought."

"Why, because they think you might bring your boyfriend back to your vacant house and NOT do anything?"

Blaine shrugged. "It's not like they can't trust me because of that. But..."

"Beats sneaking around."

"Yeah," Blaine replied with a chuckle.

Kurt just stood there, glancing around the house, but not looking at anything in particular. As if he were just thinking over and over about what they were going to do. Blaine stood next to him and grasped his hand. He seemed to mull over things too.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked sheepishly. Kurt nodded slowly.

"More than anything."

"You don't sound so sure."

Kurt's breath came out with a shudder. "I'm just nervous. Aren't you nervous?"

Blaine gave a very obviously nervous laugh. "Yes, I am."

"But you want to do it?"

Kurt's eyes met Blaine's, and they were as eager and insecure as his own, but there was a sultriness about that stare that Blaine knew Kurt had probably no idea he was transmitting so effortlessly.

"Yes," he said breathlessly, weaving his fingers with Kurt's. With a timid smile, Kurt looked up at him, reassured, as Blaine started leading him upstairs.

Their footsteps echoed in the utter silence of the house. In fact, Kurt was sure that the anxious beating of his heart could be heard throughout the house, if only there was anyone else to hear it. Kurt tried to listen, over the rhythmic thumping in his ears; there was no one else for certain.

They reached the top of the stairs, and moved down the hallway. Blaine's fingers were twitching nervously, as he let go of Kurt's hand to open the door to his room. Everything was quiet inside, except for the thumping of their hearts. Blaine flipped the switch that turned on his bedside table lamp, and the room was bathed in warm yellow light.

Kurt looked around. The bed was unmade; there were some clothes lying around, and a few stray cds and books stacked messily on the bedside table and the desk. Kurt thought ridiculously that he could never have had sex for the first time in a room that looked like a pig stye, but this level of disarray was rather endearing. Everything smelled of Blaine.

Nervously, he turned to Blaine, who was slowly closing the door, and his hand lingered on the doorknob as he looked back at Kurt, as if half-expecting him to say something, make an excuse and ask to leave. But Kurt only let out the breath he had been holding and smiled, and Blaine seemed relieved. He took his hand off the handle and leaned heavily against the door, like he was afraid his legs would give out from underneath him.

"So..." Kurt said, no longer able to bear the silence.

Blaine's eyes darted around anxiously and licked his lips.

"I... I hope you don't see this as anything but good sense, but..." he started, and took a shuddering breath. "I already have everything we... might need."

Kurt tried to sound cool and collected. "Why would I protest to good sense?" Blaine shrugged exaggeratedly and avoided his eyes.

"I don't know, because it makes it seem like... like I've been eager for this to happen? It's not that I'm not, but I didn't think much about it because... I-I didn't feel ready either. But I wanted to be ready for whenever we decided together to..." he swallowed hard, "because it's my first time and it's your first time, and I wanted it to be spontaneous, but also I wanted to be prepared, because I wouldn't want something like not having... condoms at hand to ruin the moment, even though it's the first time for both of us, so maybe it's not such a big deal, since neither of us has ever been with anyone else , and it's not like we can get each other pregnant."

By the time he was done talking, Kurt's legs felt like jelly. It just hit him in that instant that they were really going to go through with this. Because the more he thought about it, standing there in Blaine's unkempt room, the more he wanted it; he was impatient, but he didn't know how or where to begin.

Blaine looked every bit as nervous as Kurt himself was feeling, as he stepped up to him so they were face to face. Like he was trying to dispel any doubt left in Kurt's mind, he slid his hand to the back of Kurt's neck and kissed him softly on the lips. It worked perfectly, because suddenly they weren't all that nervous or hesitant anymore.

They were used to being intimate; there was a well-balanced tenderness and ferocity between them, uncommonly balanced for two boys their age. But this was different, the energy was different. They had never before been completely naked with each other, and this time, they knew that the making out led to something more. It was scary, but it was also perfect. It was just them, just Blaine and just Kurt.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked softly, suddenly sounding like he had run a mile.

"I'm perfect."

Quickly and rather clumsily, they toed off their shoes and socks while trying to not break the kiss. Blaine's hands rested on Kurt's hips, and he was bunching the fabric of his shirt in his hands in anticipation, while Kurt's own hands were on either side of Blaine's neck, feeling the pulse there.

Suddenly the shirt was coming up over his head, and Kurt lifted his arms obligingly, and as soon as the tight black shirt was discarded, Blaine's hands found his and took hold of them, before Kurt could wrap his arms around his chest, shielding himself from view in a sudden bout of shyness. Intertwining their fingers, Blaine stared for a moment, taking in his boyfriend's body. He leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips against his collarbone, and Kurt felt every single hair in his body stand on end, letting out a shuddering sigh, as Blaine's hands climbed up his back, resting on his shoulder blades, pulling him toward him.

Kurt was suddenly very aware that it was Blaine touching him. He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple grazing Blaine's lips as they ghosted over his throat. He captured Blaine's mouth and kissed him as deeply as his bewildered senses would allow him, until they were both breathing heavily and desperately. He felt a familiar warmth pooling low in his belly.

"Bed?" Blaine breathed, barely lifting his lips off of Kurt's.

"Bed, yes," Kurt barely nodded.

Carefully, Blaine pushed him down onto the mattress, pushing the bunched-up duvet out of the way, and Kurt lay down on the bed sheets. Blaine slowly kissed his way down from Kurt's temple, over his chest, and across his belly, stopping to plant a wet one right below his navel. His hands traced every muscle on Kurt's torso for a long, teasing minute, and then Kurt closed his eyes as he felt them latching on to the front and working on the button and zipper of his pants, taking a bit longer than expected.

"Sorry, my hands are still shaking," Blaine apologized, his face still so close to his belly that his breath tickled his skin. Kurt let out a light laugh and reached down to help. Without a word, they managed to get the pants undone, and then Kurt lifted his hips so that he could slide the leather pants off. He did it slowly, more out of nerves of exposing so much of himself rather than to be sexy, but judging from the look on Blaine's face as he helped him tug off the garment, he didn't even need to try.

Kurt grabbed the hem of Blaine's black t-shirt and started pulling it off, Blaine's back arching with the motion, until it came off over his head, and it was tossed away. Blaine undid his jeans and stepped out of them, leaving them in a heap on the floor. With a mirthful laugh, he lowered himself gently onto Kurt's frame and began kissing him, his lips stretched by his smile, and Kurt's sighed with pleasure as he felt their bodies touching on every inch, his hands traveling to his boyfriend's back, caressing every muscle, sliding up the dent of his spine. They must have stayed like that for almost five long, desperate minutes, until Blaine paused and looked deep into Kurt's eyes, perhaps waiting for a signal to go on. As if the two of them grinding up against each other was not clear enough.

He slid down the length of Kurt's torso and hovered close to his groin, his fingers sneaking playfully under the waistband of his boxer briefs, that thin layer of black cotton that did absolutely nothing to conceal how hard he was.

Blaine sneaked his hands between the mattress and Kurt's ass, and hooked his fingers on the back of the garment, pulling it down gently, all the way down to Kurt's ankles, and letting them fall to the floor. Kurt propped himself onto his elbows and observed Blaine, as the other boy placed random kisses up his left leg, and he shivered and swallowed hard. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was flat on his back on his boyfriend's bed, completely naked, and said boyfriend was touching every part of him. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and certainly never imagined that it would feel so good.

Wordlessly, Blaine looked up at him, as if asking for permission again, and Kurt had to close his eyes, because it was all too big and he was feeling so much of everything, that he was afraid he'd wake up and realize it had all just been a dream.

He only opened them again when he felt Blaine's breath in his groin, and his cheek grazing his hipbone, and Kurt felt the tremor building up all over his lower body in anticipation; with one last glance at Kurt's perfectly expectant face, Blaine kissed the tip before taking him in all at once.

The jolt that he felt, he could not describe; all Kurt could remember of that first moment was gasping and falling back against the mattress, and his hips moving on their own accord, against Blaine's mouth. Blaine's hands held him firmly down, as Kurt writhed and moaned under his grip.

The enthusiasm with which lips and tongue moved up and down and around him was driving him crazy. Or maybe it was the sight of that mess of dark curls between his legs, and he spread his knees further apart, as far as they would go, his fingers becoming entangled in the curls as he felt a rumble deep in his belly, and his breathing accelerated, and Blaine was making noises around him, and it was so incredible, he thought he was going to see stars.

"B-Blaine," Kurt breathed. "Blaine, I'm gonna... I'm-"

Blaine gave him a once over before pulling off, and climbed over Kurt, kissing him deeply and long. Kurt tasted himself on Blaine's pink, swollen lips; he thought for a moment that it should be disgusting and weird, but instead it was just that much more of a turn on.

"Not yet," Blaine whispered, and he leaned back to retrieve something from the drawer of his bedside table. Kurt watched him shimmy out of his own boxers clumsily, and he blushed against his better judgment and looked up at the ceiling. He was about to see his boyfriend naked, completely naked, and it was almost too much. He heard the bottle cap popping open, and Blaine was kissing him again, on the forehead, on the cheek, jaw, chest, and all the way down to his groin again, and suddenly he was whispering into Kurt's ear "tell me if I'm hurting you."

Desire, longing, lust, all these feelings were rushing through Kurt's head as he felt Blaine's fingers grazing his entrance, and he whimpered.

Blaine pushed one finger inside, and Kurt was fisting handfuls of the bed sheets and biting down on his lip so hard that he thought it would start bleeding. He willed his lower body to relax, to give in. The other boy used his free hand to stroke his chest soothingly, while planting doting kisses on Kurt's knee.

He added a second finger gently, and then a third finger, and Kurt hissed and squirmed against them, until he was practically grinding against Blaine's hand. He gasped when Blaine bent his fingers in a way that he reached a point inside that sent a pulsating bolt of energy, and he shuddered violently.

"Oh my god, Blaine..." he could barely speak at this point. "Just... please..."

Blaine withdrew his fingers as gently as he could, and continued to kiss his boyfriend's knees. He reached for something beside Kurt.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Kurt swallowed and nodded, running his hands over his hair repeatedly.

Blaine leaned back onto his heels, and tried to open the condom, but his hands were still shaking.

"I'm just gonna-" he whispered, his voice quivering slightly.

"Here, let me," Kurt said, taking it from Blaine, and even though his own fingers were also shaking, he managed to open the packet, and he motioned for Blaine to come closer. Placing his hands on the mattress at either side of Kurt, Blaine leaned forward and hovered above him, while Kurt reached down and rolled the condom on, his breath catching in his throat, because he realized this was a part of Blaine he had never touched before. This realization did not escape Blaine either, because his cheeks were suddenly streaked with a redness that Kurt rarely got to see. Curious, Kurt stroked him gently, to get a better feel of him, and Blaine made a broken noise and he buried his face in the crook of Kurt's neck; it thrilled Kurt to know that he could do that, that he was responsible for that reaction.

"You have to stop that, or I won't be able to keep going," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's neck, and Kurt reluctantly obeyed, sneaking a kiss to Blaine's ear as the other boy propped himself up again and onto his knees.

Blaine was so nervous again, that he ended up getting lube everywhere, but if Blaine didn't care, then Kurt certainly didn't; feeling the press of Blaine's knees against the back of his thighs, and the arms hooked under his knees, and the hands gripping his hips, all he wanted right now was release.

"You'll tell me if you want me to stop, right?"

The question was timid, and Blaine was looking down long lashes at him, a pleading look upon his face, like he just wanted Kurt to reassure him. Of what? Of the fact that he wanted this so badly it hurt? Kurt had never been more sexually charged before, never felt so much energy thrilling through his entire body, he thought his heart would burst from his chest; he didn't know quite how to convey to Blaine that he never wanted to stop, that he wished this, all of this, would never end.

One hand shot instantly to Blaine's face, thumbing his cheek.

"I love you," he said.

Smiling somewhat more relaxed, Blaine began to push in, and Kurt's eyes slammed shut.

It was uncomfortable at first, but slowly that discomfort turned into a sensation of heat and friction and so, so much pleasure, and Kurt exhaled a quivering breath.

Blaine was so careful to stay still, until he could see in Kurt's face that it was okay to move, but there was a yearning on his face, to make it as incredible as he could. He pushed in further, and underneath him, Kurt twitched and arched his back and clutched at Blaine's arms, and he was making noises that drove Blaine out of his mind, and it was all he could do to resist the urge to pump fast and hard, because it felt pretty incredible. All around him, Kurt was clenching and relaxing in turns, and Blaine pursed his lips to keep from shouting something rather profane. He had never felt this way before, like everything was too big and fantastic, and he couldn't manage coherent thoughts.

He managed to go deep enough so that he could lean forward and kiss Kurt and look into his eyes and tell him that he loved him. Blue eyes stared back into hazel ones, and there was longing etched deep, and Blaine felt his heart swell.

He held himself up with one arm, while the other one was bracketed beneath Kurt, somewhat cradling him to his chest, as close as he could possibly hold him, like he wanted no space between them.

He started pulling out and pushing back in, and their bodies writhed against each other, and Kurt's legs wrapped around Blaine, pulling him all the way in, as Blaine continued to piston his hips, and they both continued to make noises they had never heard from one another, and whispering each other's names desperately. At times Blaine would seem to suck the noise right off Kurt's lips, and other times he just seemed to echo him.

They didn't know what they were doing; the rhythm was messy and a little too eager. But they no longer cared, they just got used to it. As Blaine pushed in and Kurt pushed up against him, their ragged breathing was almost synchronized. Every nerve in their bodies was suddenly, seemingly, on the same wavelength. The jitters were almost gone, and it was replaced by want. More feelings, more sensations, more, just more of _this_.

Kurt clutched at his back, at his shoulders, holding onto him as if he were about to fall if he lost his grip. He was biting and sucking at his neck desperately, like it was the only thing keeping him from screaming out uncontrollably. He moaned into the crook of Blaine's neck.

He felt his senses somewhat clouded, as they rocked against one another, longing for they didn't know what, but this flood of sensations they shared, it was more than they could take. No amount or form of expectations could've prepared them for it. To be in that place, on the brink, together, could not be compared to anything.

Blaine was going faster now, and Kurt couldn't help but grind back up to meet each thrust, like his life depended on it. Blaine grabbed one of Kurt's hands and intertwined their fingers on the mattress, behind Kurt's head; for some reason, Kurt felt that gesture was the sexiest thing ever, and that was what pushed him over the edge.

Kurt's head snapped back as he felt the tremor build up and up inside him until it was too much for his body, and he orgasmed; he saw a white flash and felt a ringing in his ear. He drew in breath so fast and sharp, and he seemed to choke back a scream. His toes actually curled.

Blaine was not far behind, gasping, shaking, making gloriously weird faces and noises to rival Kurt's own, hips bucking, like he had been hit by lightning. He blinked several times, as if his vision had been momentarily impaired, and finally focused on Kurt's face, watching him, as they rode down their climax together; he watched, and couldn't help thinking that his boyfriend looked glorious, in the throes of an orgasm.

He lifted his hand to stroke Kurt's face adoringly, staring long at him, and kissed him so sweetly that Kurt felt a lump in his throat.

Despite the jitters and the clumsiness, Kurt thought that was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced. He wanted Blaine to know, somehow, but Kurt couldn't talk at the moment.

Blaine could hardly believe what had just happened. He'd had many expectations about his first time, but it was all a pale shadow of what it really turned out to be. He never imagined he could feel more connected to anyone. He never thought he could love anyone as much as he loved Kurt now. It was a weird feeling of longing, a desire for nearness, even though Kurt was still there, wrapped so closely around him.

He almost didn't want to say anything; he felt he could make no sense at the moment, no words would convey the elation that he felt right then. But he thought he should say something.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly. Kurt nodded, his breathing starting to even out.

"Do you need anything?"

The younger boy chuckled and shook his head.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Better than ever," Kurt finally replied, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry, I just... can't think straight. I'm still so nervous, and just..." Blaine trailed off. He really couldn't form logical ideas. So he started kissing Kurt eagerly, and Kurt kissed him back, and he liked the idea of not having to think about anything else at the moment.

"Can we just stay like this for a while?" Kurt whispered against Blaine's cheek.

"Anything you want," Blaine replied just as low.

"Then maybe we could stay like this forever."

Blaine chuckled. He pulled out gently, although he felt Kurt whimper quietly in protest, and stood up on wobbly knees to go into the bathroom for a second. He discarded the condom and grabbed a towel to clean himself and Kurt up. He crawled back into the bed, tossed the used towel onto the floor, and switched off the bedside lamp, while Kurt rubbed his eyes.

"I love you so much," Kurt said, smiling sleepily.

"I love you more," Blaine replied, and kissed him on the forehead before laying down next to him, putting his head on Kurt's chest, so that his ear was directly over his heart. He felt himself relax with Kurt's arms around him, his own arms wrapped around his boyfriend's lean waist, breathing him in, listening to the beating of his heart until it lulled him to sleep.

* * *

><p>Blaine woke up. There was streetlight glare pouring in through the windows; he forgot to close the curtains. He had become otherwise occupied and forgot to do it.<p>

He glanced at the bedside clock. Two o'clock in the morning. It was Saturday, there would be no one else in the house all day, and he had every intention of sleeping in. But something obviously stopped him.

Rolling onto his left side, he came face to face with Kurt, and smiled. The boy looked almost ethereal, all porcelain skin, his eyes closed, his breathing even, the mop of tousled chestnut hair on the white pillowcase. He was lying halfway on his stomach, with a hand placed on the mattress between them, and Blaine grabbed it and stroked his fingers with his thumb. It pained him to have to disturb what obviously looked like peaceful slumber.

"Kurt, wake up," he whispered, leaning in closer. He placed a kiss on his shoulder, and rubbed his back.

"Hmm..."

"I have to take you home."

"Mmmm..."

"Come on, seriously," Blaine whispered, caressing Kurt's head, running his fingers through his hair and placing a kiss on top.

"Mmmno..." Kurt whined, turning over slightly and wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist, effectively pulling him in and keeping him there.

"Kurt, come on," Blaine said, but he didn't do much else to protest, because he really liked that embrace, and for a moment, he was very tempted to give in. But his heavy eyelids flew open and he felt a twinge or regret as he pulled Kurt's arms off and got up.

"Sorry, love, but I think it's best if you sleep in your bed tonight," he said sourly, "if you don't, your dad's going to kill me. Or maybe he'll kill both of us. Either way, I don't wanna die."

He pulled Kurt to a sitting position by his arms. The other boy's eyes remained closed, but his brow furrowed.

"Come on, I'll have you home in no time, and then you can continue to sleep in your own comfy bed," Blaine said.

"I want to stay."

"And I want you to stay."

"Then I'll stay."

"I don't want to risk death, seriously. I'm pretty sure your dad's worried sick about you, and I get the feeling he might have acquired some kind of firearm by now."

Kurt mumbled something unintelligible as he allowed Blaine to pull the covers back, and he shivered slightly against the chilly air, standing up sluggishly.

Blaine walked to his dresser to fetch a pair of boxers, pajama pants and a t-shirt, and pulled them on. He looked for Kurt's boxers and the rest of his clothes, and turned to hand them to him. Kurt was standing beside the bed, rubbing his face sleepily, seemingly no longer self-conscious about being completely naked.

There was a second, as Kurt stood there in the dim pool of light from outside, all taut pale skin, in which Blaine had to regain his breath, because he could almost not believe his eyes.

"How are you so beautiful?"

"What?" Kurt asked, a little befuddled, and even in the semidarkness, his blush was very visible on his milky white cheeks.

"And why do I sometimes feel like I'm the only one who notices? It's seriously not possible."

"Blaine, I'm too tired to process you being adorable right now. Since you won't let me stay, at least give me something to wear home."

Blaine chuckled and held out the boxer briefs to him. Kurt put them on rather clumsily.

"I don't want to put the leather pants back on," he complained.

Blaine looked for another pair of pajama pants from one of his drawers, and a clean t-shirt. Kurt, however, had snatched something from the floor, the black t-shirt Blaine had worn as part of his Bono look, and started pulling it on.

"Kurt, I've been wearing that t-shirt all day, it's probably a little sweaty," Blaine pointed out.

"I don't care. It smells like you. If I can't stay overnight, at least I'll be in my bed pretending I'm next to you," Kurt replied, wrapping his arms around himself.

Blaine covered the five paces separating them at the moment and pulled Kurt into the most passionate kiss he could muster at two in the morning. He only ended it abruptly because otherwise he wouldn't be able to stop.

"Lucky for me, my whole bed smells of you," he whispered, still holding him so close that he was breathing into his neck. Kurt laughed, tickling Blaine's neck in turn.

"You're such a cheeseball," he muttered against the skin.

"You started it."

"I know."

There was a long moment in which they just stood there, in their own little bubble, holding each other, breathing in each other's scent, and they both realized they had never been happier. After everything they had been through, individually and together, Blaine lived for these moments of peace, these breakthroughs, these rare instances where nothing else existed; there was only them.

* * *

><p>Kurt suddenly wished he was back at his old house. Because then he would've still lived in the basement and it would've been twice as easy to sneak into his room.<p>

But no. They had to move to a bigger house, and his room now had to be two stories up.

He had never climbed up a wall before; he wished he had the litheness and flexibility he used to show as a kid, when he would pretend to be Spiderman and jump over furniture.

The thing was that he forgot his key in the car, and Finn had taken the car, and it now sat in the driveway with all the doors locked, and there was no way in hell that Kurt was ringing the doorbell.

He considered texting Finn and asking him to open the door, but there would be questions involved. Kurt had neither the interest nor the energy to answer questions at two thirty in the morning.

So now he was climbing up the wall to his bedroom, supporting himself on ledges and doing some major damage to Carole's ivy, while Blaine watched from below.

"Don't worry. If you fall, I'll catch you," Blaine had said when they decided on the plan. Kurt tried not to think of how cheesy and romantic this all was, so he shook his head and laughed.

"If I fall and you try to catch me, we'll both break our necks," he joked.

"I'll take my chances," Blaine replied, pulling Kurt into a long goodnight kiss. Kurt didn't know how he expected to climb now that his legs started to feel like jam again.

Grunting and panting, Kurt grabbed onto the top windowsill and grinned victoriously. He pushed the window open gently. Exhausted, he strained to pull himself up the last two feet onto the window frame, but instead he unexpectedly pitched forward and landed on the floor of his room with a thud.

"Are you okay?" came the loud hiss from down below.

"Stop asking me that," Kurt said to himself painfully, rubbing his head where it smashed on the floor. He was about to look out the window and tell Blaine that he was fine, when the light suddenly came on, and he squinted in pain, only to find his dad standing at the doorway.

Kurt's deer-in-headlights look rivaled the annoyance on Burt's face, all sleepy-eyed and frumpy, with one hand on the doorknob and the other on the light switch. He stared at Kurt blearily and expectant, and Kurt bit his lip nervously.

Instinctively, he stuck a hand out the window and waved vigorously, hoping the signal of 'run for your life' would come across. Two seconds later, however, his schoolbag shot through the window and hit him square in the back, before he heard hurried footsteps on the grass and the sound of a car door slamming and a car driving away fast.

Burt sighed and still said nothing. Kurt swallowed hard and watched his father's face for any sign of another stroke.

"You could've used the spare key under the flowerpots, instead of risking a major injury," his father said very calmly. Kurt's eyes darted around in confusion.

"We have a spare key under the flowerpots?" he asked, completely dumbfounded.

Burt didn't answer. He rubbed his face with both hands.

"I wish you had called me to tell you where you were going to be," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kurt hesitated before talking.

"I... I'm sorry, dad... I was..."

"I know what you were probably doing."

Kurt felt his mouth go a little dry.

"We fell asleep while watching a film," he said quickly. Burt sighed tiredly again.

"You don't have to lie to me, Kurt."

"Yes I do. This is embarrassing enough."

Kurt wasn't sure if his father laughed or snorted or made a noise of being irked.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Burt said finally. "But I'm your father, and I deserve to know that you're okay, especially if you're going to be out late. I don't appreciate having to stay up all night, worried."

"I'm sorry."

"You wouldn't answer your phone."

"I'm really sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"I really am."

"I know."

Kurt couldn't move away from the window. There was no way he could approach his father then.

"We didn't plan this," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Burt rubbed his eyes and stood up.

"It's fine, Kurt. Just, next time, let me know you'll be home late... or not at all," he said, heading to the door. "And by the way, you don't have to go into details," he added as an afterthought.

"So you're not mad?" Kurt asked sheepishly.

This time, he knew that was a chuckle from his father.

"No, son, I'm not. I'm just sleep-deprived," Burt yawned. "Although I just... I kind of wish you had waited until you were thirty."

Kurt blushed furiously but managed a smile. "Okay."

"But as long as... you know... as long as you remember everything I told you."

"I'm gonna jump out the window now," Kurt said sarcastically.

"Sorry. It's fine. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, dad. Thank you for not being mad."

Burt rolled his eyes and started to leave. He stopped and turned around.

"Hey son?"

"Yes?"

"Would you kindly remind Blaine that I own a shotgun and I know how to use it?"

"Dad, seriously, don't make me jump out the window."

"Sorry. Goodnight."

When Burt had flipped the light off and closed the door behind himself, Kurt finally let out a long sigh and barreled into his bed, before had much time to think of how predictably the best night of his life had ended on a slightly mortifying note.

* * *

><p>"Dave! Breakfast!"<p>

"_...to see if I still feel... I focus on the pain..._"

"David?"

"_... the only thing that's real..._"

Dave groaned into his pillow and shut his eyes harder, but his mother's voice had already yanked him back to reality. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew he was still tired and he had a headache, because sleeping last night had been no easy feat. At least it was Saturday, and he got to sleep in a little bit, but he knew he couldn't stay in bed all day.

"_...try to kill it all away... but I remember everything..._"

Dave's hand shot out toward the radio alarm clock and shut it off. He hated that song. He liked Nine Inch Nails, but he hated that song.

He had been dreaming again. No, not dreaming; _fantasizing_. He couldn't remember exactly when the fantasies started, but it was horrible. They never made him feel better, he just woke up feeling miserable.

Because it all had to do with Kurt.

They started out simple enough; he re-imagined that fateful encounter in the boys' locker room; Dave had wanted to get an idea of how everything would've gone down if Kurt hadn't pushed him away when he tried to kiss him a second time. He pictured Kurt kissing him back; he pictured himself pressing the smaller boy up against the lockers, hands grappling at his chest, sneaking under his shirt. He could almost feel Kurt's breath against his face, and hear him moan into his mouth.

Lately, most fantasies took place in his own room. The sight of Kurt lying in his bed had been a fresh new way to torture himself, apparently, since the old one seemed to have grown tired. Sometimes Santana was there, egging him on. A few times, instead of Kurt it had been Sam Evans. But mostly, Dave imagined pinning Kurt under him, ravishing his mouth, and Kurt snaking his hands through his hair, grinding his hips up against him.

But it never went much further than that, because he'd stop himself as soon as he started feeling uneasy. He felt bad. He felt like he was using Kurt. He was using the image of the boy whom he used to torment, the boy who had actually tried to help him, to quell a desire that he didn't quite understand.

He kept asking himself the same questions ever since. Did this mean he wanted to have sex with a boy? Or just Kurt? And occasionally Sam Evans? And why did Santana had to pop up everywhere?

There was a knock on the door.

"Dave, honey?" his mother asked, popping her head into the room. "Are you not feeling well?"

Dave sat up nervously, clutching the blanket around his shoulders, to conceal what? The Kurt Hummel that was stretched out on his bed, _in his mind_?

"Mom, please knock before coming in," he said quickly in a flustered tone.

"I did knock," Mrs. Karofsky replied sweetly, looking concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"No, mom, I'm fine. Just tired," Dave said groggily, rubbing his face.

"Are you working yourself too hard? Is coach Beiste being too tough on you boys?"

"No, it's not football. I'm just... I had trouble falling asleep last night."

"I've told you not to play Angry Birds until too late," she chuckled. "Well, it's Saturday, at least you can relax. Go out with your friends or something. It's been a while since I've seen Azimio around here. Are you two not in good terms anymore?"

Dave felt bad about lying to his mother. He wished he could tell her everything. He wished he could tell her that the reason he and Azimio weren't very close anymore was because he was afraid of what he and his other friends might say if they ever found out that he was gay; so gay, in fact, that he was currently fantasizing about the boy he once bullied into transferring schools.

But he looked at his mother and shook his head. "Nah, I have a lot of homework. I think I'll just get that out of the way first."

Mrs. Karofsky nodded in understanding and sighed. "Okay, good, but you shouldn't stay cooped up in your room all weekend. You have to face the world at some point," she smiled at him. "And come downstairs for breakfast. There's waffles."

"Be there in a sec," Dave replied, his face falling as he watched her leave. He slumped back onto the pillow and let out a low, frustrated groan. There was no way he could face the world today, at any point. Not until he could get over the hot, disgusting feeling of embarrassment.

But there was always a slip-up. There was always a tiny, fleeting memory of the taste of a kiss, and he was feeling miserable all over again.

* * *

><p>That saturday, Kurt finally woke up, the latest he had ever slept in, and he had the stupidest grin on his face. The memories of the previous night, and realizing he was still wearing Blaine's black t-shirt and pajama pants, put him in a good enough mood that he barely recalled having a really uncomfortable encounter with his father. He showered and dressed and headed downstairs to face whatever his now well-rested father might have to say after having had time to mull over the situation.<p>

His mobile trilled suddenly with the sound of an incoming message. It was as if Blaine had known the moment he'd be waking up.

"_Greetings from cloud nine,_" it simply read. Kurt's face split into an even bigger smile.

"Kurt?"

He turned to the door in surprise, as if he had been caught red-handed. Finn was sticking his head in through the door.

"Ahem, do you know how to knock?" Kurt demanded in annoyance.

"Sorry, I thought you were asleep. You got in pretty late last night, didn't you?"

"Uh, yeah, we were watching a film last night and we fell asleep," Kurt lied.

"Oh well, mom told me to ask you if you were coming down for breakfast," Finn said.

"Eh, sure, be right there."

"There's waffles."

"Great."

"See ya."

"Bye."

At breakfast, Kurt could barely look at his father, let alone talk to him, and Burt seemed to try to avoid looking back at him too. Finn shoveled food into his mouth obliviously, and Carole didn't voice that she perceived an air of tension in the air.

Kurt was glad to do a whole bunch of chores with Carole just to have a parent to talk to without feeling the scrutiny. Although he suspected that Carole knew, because she looked like she was coming slightly unhinged, like she was holding a bunch of excited questions in.

Saturday was now usually the night for official family dinners, before the boys would head out with friends or make other plans. Burt asked Melrose to come over for dinner, and after that, she and Kurt were going to 'Melrose place' to hang out; Blaine and Mercedes were coming too.

At six that evening, Kurt was in his room getting dressed and primped up, when he heard the doorbell and Finn opened the door.

"_Bonsoir, grand oiseau,_" Melrose said upon entering. Kurt laughed to himself. He could practically hear the smirk on Melrose's face.

"Eh, _bonsoir_," Finn replied feebly, obviously unaware that Melrose was still, unbeknownst to him calling him Big Bird. She greeted Burt and Carole, and eventually made her way upstairs.

"Hey, Fluffy," Melrose said, appearing at Kurt's doorway, wearing a blue dress and a black leather jacket. She plopped down onto his bed and watched him as he worked on his hair. Kurt looked at her in the mirror and smiled bigger.

"Hi, Melrose, what have you been up to?" he said, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"Not much. My sweet, geeky neighbor from downstairs came over last night with her Harry Potter DVDs and we had a Harry Potter marathon with butterbeer," she said. "And by 'butterbeer' I mean my own recipe for butterbeer, which consists of toast with butter and a beer. Or seven. One for each film."

"Sounds like you had a good time," Kurt said.

Melrose didn't reply. She was suddenly staring intently at him, her eyes narrowed.

"What?" he asked, smiling puzzled as he noticed the questioning look she had.

Melrose's eyes grew wide and she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. He was taken aback.

She pointed a finger at him slowly. "You... did you do... 'the dolphin'?" she whispered.

He could only stare in surprise.

"You did, didn't you?" her o-shaped mouth turned into a mischievous grin. Kurt bit his lip, but his smile betrayed him.

"Oh my god! You did!" she continued to whisper excitedly. "I knew it!"

"How did you know?" he asked, not at all perturbed, turning around to face her.

"Well, you have that glow about your face, that spells out 'I had the best night ever, and I can't think of anything else'. Plus, you can't stop smiling," she said in a sing-song voice.

"I can't stop smiling," he admitted pathetically.

"It's like you slept with a coat-hanger in your mouth," she added.

"Shut up," he said, but he couldn't help laughing.

"I need details. Wait, no, that's creepy. I need basic information to get me through dinner until you give in and give me all the details voluntarily. Like when, where, how, who made the first move... how many times, etc etc," she lowered her voice. Kurt turned vividly red.

Just then, his phone rang. Both he and Melrose looked at it simultaneously, and Melrose's face split into the most evil grin he had ever seen from her part, just as she lunged for it. Kurt reacted very slowly, and she snatched it up before he had a chance to fight her for it, and answered it.

"Hello?" she said in her best Kurt impersonation.

"Hey, love," Blaine's voice was somewhat audible from the speaker.

"Hi, Flipper," Melrose said idiotically, switching back to her own voice, pushing away at Kurt's prying hands, as Kurt basically tackled her flat on the bed.

"Melanie Rose Covey Comte, I'm going to kill you, give me that phone!"

There was a laugh coming from the phone, as well as from Melrose's shaking body. She eventually surrendered the mobile device, and just lay there for a minute, recovering her breath.

"That was worth it," she said, getting up. "I'll leave you two cetacean mammals, I mean, lovebirds, alone."

But as she turned to leave, she wrapped her friend in a tight embrace that squeezed some of the air out of his lungs. "I'm happy for you, Fluffy," she said excitedly and skipped out of the room, her long hair swaying behind her. She looked like a cartoon.

"What was that?" Blaine chuckled.

"She knows," Kurt said simply. Blaine made an 'oh' sound.

"Oh yeah? How did she?"

"I have no idea. She said I can't stop smiling," Kurt said, and it was true. He had a grin stretched out from ear to ear and he couldn't get rid of it. Blaine laughed.

"I can't stop smiling either," he said. "My face hurts, but I can't help it."

"Yeah."

"And... how's your dad now?"

Kurt chuckled. He had already told Blaine all about his parental encounter after breaking and entering his own room, and Blaine wondered how he was ever going to face Burt Hummel again. Obviously he wasn't angry or anything, but Kurt wondered if his father suddenly regretted ever having had the talk with his son about safe sex, especially considering that the prompt to do it had come from Blaine.

"He'll get over it," Kurt replied simply.

"I hope so. I'll see you in a while."

"I love you," Kurt said, and he thought he could almost hear Blaine sigh and smile.

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>"So, you kids have plans for tonight?" But asked during dinner.<p>

"Well, Rachel and I are going to the movies and then ice cream," Finn said through a mouthful of salad. "You can't watch 'Cowboys and Aliens' without going for Baskin Robins afterwards."

"Okay, good," Burt nodded, taking a bite of chicken. "How about you, Kurt? What are you and Blaine up to tonight?"

Carole nearly dropped her fork and put her hand over her mouth. Melrose pursed her lips.

Kurt ignored them and forced himself to look at his dad. "Actually, Melrose is taking us back to her place and we're having a 30 Rock marathon with Mercedes."

"And then we're going to a meth club," Melrose added. "And then we'll go dance under the moon, naked, and have an orgy with a bunch of people who think they're vampires."

Burt narrowed his eyes at her as she smirked.

"And then ice cream," she continued. "You can't have a vampiric orgy without going for Baskin Robins afterwards."

"Very amusing," Burt said sarcastically. "So you'll just stay in Melrose's apartment?" he asked, turning back to Kurt.

"Yep," Kurt replied.

"And you'll drive each of them home after you're done?" Burt asked Melrose.

"Yep," she said.

"And you promise me no alcohol?"

"For them? Yep."

"Melrose..." came the warning tone.

"I'm kidding, papa Burt," she answered with a shake of her head. "Wow, you seem to have grown a little uptight since last night around two in the morning..."

Carole squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw. Burt did not look the least entertained. Kurt wanted to throw his knife at Melrose's heart. Finn just looked confused, but continued to eat.

* * *

><p>"Mercedes, you should've seen it. It was like a scene from a horror movie," Kurt was saying later that night. He, Blaine and Mercedes were lounging on Melrose's couch, while Melrose made chai tea and popcorn in the kitchen.<p>

"I don't think I'd want to. If I were you, I would've jumped out the window," Mercedes replied, after regaining her breath from laughing for five minutes straight as the boys told her the whole story.

"And Blaine abandoned me at the mercy of my father."

Blaine's mouth fell open in indignation. "What was I supposed to do? Climb up and talk to him? Like that wouldn't have been suicidal."

"He did say to remind you about his shotgun."

"I knew it," Blaine said, pretending to be worried.

"That's so wrong!" Mercedes said, laughing.

"What's wrong?" Melrose came up from behind with a plate of cookies.

"My dad threatening my boyfriend with a shotgun," Kurt replied.

"Oh, he says that all the time," Melrose said. "It's like he's had that for years, but I've never actually seen it. He once threatened a guy I dated. Remember that nervous kid, the one in the book club, at Carmel... tall, really skinny, freckly?"

"Uh... Mason?" Kurt guessed.

"Madison. Johnny Madison," Melrose snapped her fingers.

"Oh, him!"

"Yeah. He brought up the shotgun then too."

"I had no idea."

"Wait, he saw you when you dropped Kurt off at the house?" Melrose's eyes went wide.

"No, I ran for it," Blaine turned red. "It was supposed to be a rather romantic end to the evening, but then we got kind of interrupted."

"It was horrible. My dad caught me sneaking into my room _through the window_. I had never been so embarrassed in my life," Kurt finished.

"I didn't even get to do Romeo's monologue, I had rehearsed it in my head and everything."

Kurt glared at his boyfriend indignantly. "You're worked up over that? My dad caught me sneaking back into the house! I had never been caught sneaking back into _anywhere_! I thought he would lock me up in a tower surrounded by a moat."

"Excellent, I practiced my 'Shrek' dialogue too, just in case," Blaine rubbed his hand in satisfaction.

"What? Stop," Kurt looked at Blaine as if he had lost it.

"I wish I had been there," Melrose chuckled.

"No, you wouldn't," Kurt shook his head.

"Just to see the look on his face..."

"I don't need to give my dad another stroke."

"He wasn't going to have a stroke. He already has said that he's got no problem with you having sex, just as long as he doesn't find out. Unfortunately he did."

"Wait. How did you know he said that?" Kurt scrutinized her.

"He told me. I think he trusts me to be your confidant, in case you don't feel all that comfortable talking to him about anything, as he says he knows you'd be. So maybe he hopes you'd open up to me. I'd rather you would not, by the way. No offense, but I don't really fancy giving advice to two attractive boys on how to screw each other. It's kind of depressing. Not to mention weird, because you're like my brother."

Ignoring the fact that Mercedes and Blaine were nearly choking on their cookies as they rolled around laughing, Kurt tried to not look so mortified.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask anyone anything ever."

"Come on, your dad is a pretty wise man when it comes to these things," Melrose said. "Come to think of it, while my parents didn't give a shit about me, it was papa Burt who gave me 'the talk', and a pretty good one at that. And that's probably the reason I didn't act out towards my parents, which would probably have landed me with chlamydia or a belly at fifteen."

"I have an idea! Let's completely change the subject!" Kurt said, clapping his hands with fake enthusiasm. "Let's talk about what Mercedes should sing at Sectionals. We need her to win this for us."

Mercedes shook her head adamantly. "Nuh-huh, come on, I wanna know now."

"Wanna know what?" Kurt asked fearfully, watching his friend's eyeing the boys mischievously.

"Who made the first move?"

Simultaneously, Kurt and Blaine's faces turned a deep shade of red.

"Mercedes! That is so wrong!" Melrose scolded her, but turned with a wicked smile toward the boys. "Start with 'where'."

"You..." Kurt's eyes narrowed menacingly toward the red-haired girl.

"Like, did you strip him off, or did he remove the leather pants all by himself?" Melrose was wiggling her eyebrows at Blaine, and the dark-haired boy looked like he wanted to hide behind the couch. Mercedes couldn't breathe anymore and only slapped her thigh repeatedly.

"I will murder you in your sleep," Kurt threatened in a low voice.

"Maybe you shouldn't have told us," Melrose said, smirking.

"I didn't tell you, you figured it out by yourself."

"You still told Mercedes."

"I thought I might as well. She _used to be_ my best friend up until five seconds ago," he looked pointedly at the dark-skinned girl, who ignored him and continued to gasp for air. "The only reason I figured it would be okay to tell you was because I can't hide this kind of thing from either of you, but at least the secret would be safe. I didn't expect this level of immaturity."

"Don't worry, boys. Your secret is safe," Mercedes said, her laughter finally subsiding. "As long as it doesn't eventually get out that Blaine got shot with an imaginary shotgun or that you got locked up in a tower with a moat."

* * *

><p>On monday morning, Kurt was standing at his locker, fetching some books, when Brittany came by and held up her hand as if expecting a high five.<p>

"Oh, hey, Brit," Kurt said, smiling at her in confusion. While she continued to flash a silly smile at him, he finally gave her the high five and she swayed on the spot like a little girl brimming with excitement.

"I'm very happy for you, Kurt," she started, "but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't kind of jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Of you doing it with Blaine for the first time."

Kurt's eyes and mouth went wide, but Brittany grabbed his hands and rubbed them affectionately.

"I kind of wish it had been me," she said bashfully, "I always liked your baby-soft hands. I know you're not into girls, but I still would've rocked your world."

Speechless and stunted, Kurt just watched her as she flipped her hair over her shoulder flirtatiously and waved goodbye.

* * *

><p>Blaine walked into Biology, smiling, and waved to Sam, Puck and Santana, at the very back. They were chatting quietly amongst themselves, and stopped promptly when they saw him.<p>

Sam glanced up as Blaine sat next to him, and froze. His eyes widened and he leaned closer to Blaine, and continued to stare, until Blaine turned to meet his gaze.

"What?" he asked.

Sam seemed to be trying very hard not to grin.

"Good weekend, Blaine?" he asked, suppressing a laugh.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Blaine nodded slowly and smiled.

"Yeah, it was great. How about yours?"

"Probably not as good as yours," Sam was grinning like a Cheshire cat now. A big-lipped Cheshire cat.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked, getting worried.

Sam looked mischievously at the others, who were shaking with quiet laughter.

"I'm only saying that it's obvious your weekend must have been pretty awesome, judging from that GINORMOUS HICKEY ON YOUR NECK."

He didn't exactly shout it, but he did say the last part loud enough. Blaine's hand flew automatically to his neck and felt the hickey there; Kurt's lips and teeth had done some serious damage, but Blaine hadn't noticed until now. Horrified, he lay his hand flat against the skin.

"Shit," he cursed lowly.

"Oh, yeah, sure, try to cover it _now_. Where are all the scarves you always wear?" Puck said, trying to sound serious when indeed he found the other boy's flustered face hilarious.

"Shut up, Noah," Blaine hissed through gritted teeth.

"I think this calls for a bro fist bump, man," Puck added, making a fist and showing it to Blaine, who just stared at him as if he were crazy. "Hey man, I'm just happy for you."

"Leave me alone. I don't even know how that happened," Blaine's voice was muffled by his hands, which he was now running repeatedly over his face.

"Do you want me to explain it to you?" Puck asked with an evil grin.

"Noah, seriously, shut up," he said, starting to get angry. "Thanks, Sam," he added sarcastically, punching Sam in the shoulder. Sam winced but continued to laugh.

"Anytime," he said in between gasps for air, holding his stomach.

"Shouldn't you be thanking Adam Lambert too?" Santana teased, cocking an eyebrow in Blaine's direction. Blaine glared daggers at her, before grabbing his things and heading hurriedly out the door.

"Dude, we were just joking," Puck called after him.

"Hey!" Santana shouted.

"Mr. Anderson, where do you think you're going?" asked Professor Hansen, the biology teacher, who walked in at that moment. Blaine only side-stepped him and sprinted out of the classroom.

He ran down the near-empty hallway toward his locker. His hands were shaking a little as he dialed his combination and popped the door open. A quick rummage through revealed a dark red scarf folded neatly with a coat and pair of gloves. He wrapped it around his neck quickly, and sighed in relief.

"Are you okay?"

He jumped at the sound of Santana's voice. He turned to see her standing there, looking concerned.

"How did you guys find out?" he asked. Santana didn't reply right away. She just shook her head.

"Blaine, we're sorry, okay? We were just teasing," she sounded genuinely worried.

"Forget it, you wouldn't understand," he said, slamming the door of his locker.

"Wouldn't understand what?"

Blaine sighed, shoulders slumping. "Did Kurt tell you about the time I got beat up? For being gay?"

There were about five seconds of silence, and Blaine turned his head to see if she was still even there.

"No," she said in a very low voice, avoiding his eyes.

"It was a Sadie Hawkins dance at my old high school, and I went with one of my best friends, and we had both just come out of the closet." Blaine shrugged. "You fill in the blanks."

Santana stared at him, looking both sympathetic and a little frightened.

"Needless to say, I transferred to Dalton after that," he added.

"I'm sorry," came the quiet reply.

"I know it seems like I'm okay with being out and proud here, but most of the time I'm pretty scared," he said quietly. "But I put on a brave face for Kurt. For myself. Because I really hope one day I won't have to deal with this kind of crap anymore. But for now, I'd like to be a little careful."

Santana looked down.

"I'm really sorry. I'll talk to the guys. Come back to class, you don't want to get in trouble."

"I've gotta go find Melrose, maybe she can help me with some foundation or pressed powders or something. I can't walk around all day wearing this scarf, it's too stuffy in here."

Santana watched him go, looking downcast and forlorn. She bit her lip worriedly and headed back to Biology slowly.

* * *

><p>"Melrose? Did you tell someone?"<p>

Melrose looked up from the computer screen in Miss Moreau's office, to see a red-faced Kurt eyeing her worriedly. She logged off Twitter and turned her full attention to the boy.

"Tell who what?" she asked.

"Anyone. About me and Blaine."

Melrose's eyes went wide in horror. "NO!" she shook her head vigoriously, voice high. "No! I would never... You know that. I made a promise, you know I would never break that kind of promise to you."

"I believe you," Kurt said, nodding in resignation.

"Good, because you know I love you, and I would never do that to you," she continued adamantly.

"Melrose, calm down. I didn't really think it was you, I just had to make sure."

"Okay," Melrose said breathily, like she had just run a mile. "Wait, someone else knows?"

"Mercedes says it wasn't her either," he fell into the chair opposite her. Melrose shrugged.

"Who else lives in your house?"

Kurt sat up. "Finn? I don't think he knows."

"Would you bet on that?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "Who knows what evil gossip mastermind lurks behind that blank stare he always has."

"I'm not sure," he said uncertainly.

"Didn't you say that he once accused you of cheating on Blaine with Sam Evans?"

He looked up at her dubiously. She shrugged again.

"I'm just saying. Because boys are bigger gossips than girls. No offense, but it's true in most cases."

Just then, there was a light knock on the door and Blaine walked in. "Hi."

"Hey, we were just talking about you," Melrose said. "Well, kind of."

"Really?" he asked unconcerned.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, noticing the nervous look on his boyfriend's face. Blaine made sure that the door had swung shut completely before sitting next to Kurt on the other chair.

"Did you know that you had given me a hickey?"

It was Kurt's turn to panic, his eyes growing the size of dinner plates. "What? NO!"

"I didn't notice it either," Blaine replied, taking off the scarf. He turned to Melrose. "Would you happen to have something to cover it up with?"

"Whoa, that's big. How did we not notice it?" Melrose said, eyebrows raised as she examined Blaine's neck. She reached for her bag and started digging for her makeup kit.

"Santana, Puck and Sam did. And apparently they know."

"Them too?" Kurt asked shrilly.

"Who else knows?" Blaine asked.

"Brittany."

"Then everyone knows."

"I'm gonna kill Finn," Kurt hissed.

"Didn't you just say that you didn't think he'd do that kind of thing?" Melrose asked.

"Well, I'll ask him, and then I'm gonna kill him," Kurt said angrily.

"Okay, I know this is not comforting at all, but you're like five shades darker than I am, so I'm not sure this foundation is going to do much good," Melrose said, laying everything in her makeup case onto the desk. "Fear not, though, I used to work in theater, I know my way around makeup. I think I can do something about this. And maybe if people squint at you all day it will go unnoticed, that's the least we can hope for."

"Whatever. It's like high school students have a freaking radar for this kind of thing," Kurt said bitterly.

"No argument there," Melrose agreed, as she started dabbing at Blaine's neck with a concealer stick.

* * *

><p>It was not until Glee club that Kurt was able to confront Finn. The jock had been rather elusive all day, especially since the only class he and Kurt shared was French, which they didn't have until the next day. When the bell rang for last period, Blaine was trying to keep Kurt from storming into the choir room and bludgeoning his brother with a sheet music stand.<p>

Trying to stay collected, Kurt actually walked into the room very calmly, followed by Blaine and Melrose. The latter jumped onto her usual spot on the piano and leaned forward for a better view. Kurt didn't really want to make a scene or anything, especially considering that all of New Directions was already there.

Finn was sitting on the front row, with Rachel leaning against his shoulder and holding onto his arm.

"Finn, do you know something?" Kurt asked quietly, standing squarely in front of the other boy. Rachel lifted her head and looked a little surprised. Most of the other Glee members stopped talking and listened.

"Oh, god, it's true, isn't it?" Finn said, looking put-off. Blaine and Kurt both blushed deeply.

"How did you know?" Kurt demanded.

"Your dad was talking to me about-"

"Finn, my dad couldn't have told you! He'd never do that." Kurt's voice rose slightly.

"He didn't _tell_ me. But he sat me down and gave me the sex talk on saturday, after you left," Finn explained nervously, almost in a whisper. "Considering he decided to do this the day after you didn't show up all night because you were with Blaine, I figured it must have had something to do with it."

"And now you decide to become the most perceptive and clever person in existence?"

Finn blinked in surprise. "Am I?"

"That was sarcasm," Kurt spat angrily.

"Oh."

"_Everybody_ knows, Finn. That's not fair," Kurt hissed. "Everybody was _not_ supposed to know. This is between me and Blaine."

Finn held his hands up defensively. "No, everybody doesn't know. I'm pretty sure, I mean, I don't think anyone outside this room knows. And, I didn't say that you guys had sex. I said 'I think so', I never said I knew for a fact."

"Oh, because if there's anything we've learned about this school is that students won't believe anything unless it comes from a reliable source with facts," Kurt countered angrily. Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

Finn had this kicked-puppy expression, but it did nothing to deter Kurt. "I'm really sorry. I only told Rachel at first."

Kurt's smoldering gaze was now placed on the tiny girl.

"I didn't tell anyone!" Rachel defended herself, turning red. "I just... didn't deny it when Santana asked me about it."

Kurt was fuming. "And how did Santana find out?"

"I know everything," Santana replied with a shrug. "But this time, Puck told me."

"Thanks for throwing me in the frying pan," Puck glared at her.

"Finn told us all," Sam pointed an accusing finger at the quarterback.

"Thanks, Sam," Finn said through gritted teeth.

Kurt was looking down at him, hurt and on the verge of tears.

"I don't believe you. You're my brother," he muttered.

Finn shook his head, like he was sorry but not all that sorry. He was still trying to defend himself.

"Look, everybody knew I lost the big V to Santana, even you, and the only one that got upset about it was Rachel."

"And I had every right to," Rachel said, crossing her arms.

"You don't... okay, whatever, The point is," Finn took a deep breath, "it's not that big a deal, is it? So you had sex with your boyfriend. Great. You guys have been together for longer than most couples in high school last."

The Glee kids looked at each other and nodded in agreement. They didn't exactly have the best record.

Finn continued. "I think the reason this is such big news is because, apparently, for the first time in this Glee club, except maybe Mike and Tina," he cocked his head in the direction of the Asian couple, who smiled sheepishly in gratitude, "a couple had sex, not to cheat, not for revenge, not to obtain something, or just for the sake of getting rid of their virginity. Just because they love each other."

Most of the kids nodded again. It was sad but true, and they knew it. Mercedes smiled in spite of it, and Brittany made an 'aww' sound.

Kurt's expression, however, had not softened one bit. Blaine looked down at the floor, and Melrose sighed heavily, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you, Finn, for that lovely breakdown of the twisted telenovela that is New Directions," Kurt started, his voice eerily calm. "But you guys don't get it. These things have a way of getting out. You may think that you just gossiped amongst yourselves, but by the end of the week the whole school might know."

He looked back down at his brother, but he was addressing them all anyway. "We're gay, Finn, and if you don't quite remember, this school is not all that fond of gays. I thought you'd know that by now, considering that was the very reason why I left the first time. And the same reason why I'm the reigning prom queen."

His voice cracked slightly. "Thank you for putting us back in the spotlight," he said sarcastically.

"Is everything all right?" Will asked, walking in at that instant. He looked at Melrose, who bit her lip.

"Are you boys okay?" he added, approaching Blaine and Kurt, who were still looking down at Finn.

"You know, I'm not really in the mood for singing," Kurt said softly. "If you don't mind, Mr. Schue, I'd like to go home. I feel suddenly sick."

"Me too," Blaine said, looking suddenly pale.

The boys waved goodbye to Melrose and Mercedes, and walked out of the room.

No one said a word. Finn looked stunned and ashamed. Melrose threw a notebook of sheet music at him. The tall boy winced and looked at her in surprise.

"Not cool, _grand oiseau,_" she said, glaring at him.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry if that was too long. Because it obviously is. But oh well. <em>

_Next chapter coming really soon (unless something awful happens and I'm horribly delayed again, as always)._

_Love, Valentina._


	11. Chapter 11

_A quick warning:_

_This is where the story takes the turn that actually originated the story. It revolves around something unfortunate that lamentably still happens in our society. I don't want to spoil it, but you should know that *SPOILER ALERT* this chapter contains a bit of violence against gays. *SPOILER END*. If you don't like that, you shouldn't read this chapter. Or the next one. But then you won't know what happened._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. FOX and Ryan Murphy do._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

As if to demonstrate just how true Kurt's words have been, the very next day, just before the first bell rang, Kurt and Blaine were walking down the hallway toward Geometry, when three members of the football team passed them, each tossed a slushy into their faces, and walked off.

The boys froze in the spot, gasping for breath, the wind knocked out of their lungs by the intense cold.

Sue Sylvester was coming out of her office just then, and she saw most of it. Holding up her megaphone, she blew her whistle and called out the names of the three football players and marched them straight into Figgins' office to give them detention.

Kurt and Blaine, with chunks of blue ice falling from their faces, looked at each other in resignation, then down at their stained clothes.

"Are you all right?" Blaine asked.

"I'm fine. You?"

"Could be better."

As Blaine brushed the remainder of the liquid off, Kurt looked around embarrassed, at the ogling eyes of the students who stopped to watch. Some giggled, as always, some looked concerned, and others just continued on their way, pretending they hadn't seen anything.

Far down the hall he spotted Dave Karofsky, mouth slightly agape, and Kurt met his eyes. There was a silent exchange between them. Kurt suddenly felt like he was trying to apologize for something.

"Come on," he said to Blaine, leading him toward the nearest girls' bathroom. A horrified Mercedes and Rachel followed them in, wanting to help.

* * *

><p>"Kurt, I'm sorry. I really am."<p>

"Screw you, Finn."

The two brothers sat together in French. Kurt's shirt was now dry, but splattered with blue stains; he had somewhat fixed his hair and gotten rid of most of the blue dye on his skin, though with his pale skin, it had not been easy, and his face and neck were a bit raw from all the scrubbing.

Finn had been following him all over the school apologizing incessantly, and Kurt had to muster every ounce of patience to keep from punching him. Now that there was no avoiding sitting together in French, he was getting an earful of apologies again.

"I wish I hadn't assumed anything. I was so stupid."

"I think it's a little late for that. And yeah, you are."

Melrose shot them a look as she walked past them, while instructing random students to do a dialogue from the textbook.

"How can I make it up to you?" Finn asked in a low voice.

Kurt ignored him, pretending to read.

"Kurt, I know you're not reading. You already speak French."

Still no reply. Finn tried to get in his line of sight.

"Please say something."

"You can't undo it, Finn. We're just gonna have to be on our toes, until something else happens that makes the whole school forget this piece of information."

"We don't know that the whole school knows. Maybe no one else knows. Maybe it was contained."

"Oh, so after a cease fire of nearly two months, Blaine and I get slushied randomly?"

Finn didn't answer. He knew the odds were against him. He leaned over his textbook.

"Just so you know," Kurt continued, "I'm used to this kind of crap by now, though that's not to say it doesn't bother me. But if anything happens to Blaine, I swear I'll let Melrose rip you and your big mouth in half."

"Why not do it right now, get it over with?" Melrose whispered, cracking her knuckles in Finn's ear. The tall boy jumped, unaware that the teacher had been standing right behind him.

The students were still doing the conversation piece in French. Finn tried to focus, but it was difficult. After everything they had been through, he always felt like he owed Kurt something, to be there for him, to be a good brother.

"We'll be your bodyguards," he said, kneeling on his seat toward Kurt. The other boy rolled his eyes.

"Finn..."

"Seriously, me and the other guys, we can protect you and Blaine. Like the Bullywhips did."

"Whatever."

"I'll get to the bottom of this, Kurt. I promise. I'll figure out a way to fix this."

"_Monsieur Hudson, s'il vous plait, s'asseoir et se taire_?" Melrose called from behind her desk.

Finn drew a blank. "Uh... what?"

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP."

Promptly, Finn spun in his seat and sat down properly. He caught Dave staring at him from the adjacent desk. "What are you looking at?" he whispered angrily. Dave's eyes fell meekly toward his textbook.

* * *

><p>Fearing more repercussions from his imprudence, Finn did what he promised; to find out what the slushy facial had been about. It hadn't happened in a considerable long time. In fact, the only previous time it had happened since the beginning of the school year was on Blaine's first week, shortly after he had been accepted into New Directions. But even then, no one was certain if the slushy had happened for being in Glee club, or for being gay.<p>

Finn didn't need to confront anyone, however, to get the information. While in the locker room before football practice that day, Strando had been loudly joking about it. Apparently, the three boys who had gotten detention had been talking about doing it since the previous week, when they saw Kurt in Glambert regalia.

Finn was relieved to know that it didn't have to do with the gossip in Glee club after all. But he still felt like it was all his fault. The Glee kids all agreed never to talk about it again, and the boys decided that, whether Kurt and Blaine liked it or not, they would now act like their personal bodyguards; at least until they could be absolutely sure that, in fact, no one else at school knew.

In any case, it seemed that Blaine and Kurt had decided not to be bothered about the whole thing. But they were somewhat touched by the boys' gesture. They were trying to make up for what they had done, and Kurt knew that he could always count on them to stand up for him, as they had done so many times before.

"Do you think we should tell Burt?" Finn asked, as he, Kurt and Mercedes walked toward Spanish.

"No! My dad already wishes I had stayed in Dalton. I certainly don't need him to be on my case now for having sex," Kurt replied.

"But maybe he should know about this."

"I don't want him to get worried. This was nothing."

"It's not nothing, Kurt-"

"Finn, don't worry. It's not that big a deal."

"You said it was!"

"You told people!"

"I know! I know I'm an idiot! I get it!" Finn ran a hand frustratingly through his hair. "I just... if what you said was true, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Kurt assessed his step-brother's face and felt a little bad. Maybe he had overreacted a little in Glee club. But being the only openly gay couple in the school was a lot harder, and he didn't expect anyone to understand. Especially Finn. But he knew that it had never been the jock's intention to do any harm.

"Don't worry, Finn. I'll be fine," Kurt said with a faint smile, patting his brother on the shoulder.

But he had an inkling everything would not be fine. He felt that he wouldn't feel one hundred percent fine until he could graduate and leave this forsaken town.

* * *

><p>"I wanna graduate and leave this forsaken town."<p>

Blaine looked up from his history book and over at Kurt, who was splayed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling instead of working on the essay that was due for tomorrow.

"The time will come sooner than you think," he said comfortingly.

"Blaine, it's November. We're seven months away from graduation. It's gonna be a freaking eternity."

"Are you still upset about the slushy? Or is it about something else?"

"In part it is about the slushy, and the fact that my favorite white Ralph Lauren is now completely ruined; but mainly..." Kurt trailed off, sitting up with a deep sigh, "I just really want to get out of Lima. I wanna go to New York. I want to be in a place where I don't have to worry so much about being gay and whether people approve of it or not. I want to be able to hug you in public without thinking so much about who's watching."

Blaine followed Kurt's gaze and he saw the cork-board over his desk. It was full of pictures and mementos from when New Directions had gone to Nationals. There were pictures of the whole group in Lincoln Center, in Central Park, etc. There was a picture Kurt had taken of Rachel in front of Tiffany's, pretending to be in the opening scene of 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'; there were ticket stubs, stolen key cards and city maps.

Blaine smiled as he observed each; he remembered Kurt telling him the whole New York adventure in detail, over coffee at the Lima Bean. It was then that Blaine had first said 'I love you'. It was then that he knew he would do anything to keep Kurt for the rest of his life, however long that turned out to be.

He needed New York too. He needed the dreams, the possibilities. He needed to be in a city where he knew he could marry Kurt if they both wanted it. He needed to hug and kiss his boyfriend whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted.

This time, leaving McKinley wouldn't mean running away; it would mean making a life together. Everything he ever yearned for.

"Well," Blaine started, moving from the desk to the bed, sitting in front of Kurt, "graduation may be still too far, but New York isn't, remember? Even if just for a short while, we'll be there together, on New Year's Eve."

Kurt's face lit up slightly. "That's true."

"Standing in Times Square, in the middle of this huge, excited crowd, waiting for the ball to drop," Blaine continued, inching closer as he spoke, until he could feel Kurt's breath on his lips, "and when the clock strikes midnight, I'll be doing this..."

Heart racing as always, he kissed him softly at first, and then deepened the kiss, a hand snaking to the back of Kurt's neck.

He broke the kiss eventually, looking sultrily at his boyfriend. "And then next year, starting June, we'll be able to do that in the middle of Times Square or a Starbucks or _anywhere_, as often as we want." He kissed him again. Kurt sounded a little breathless when they broke it again.

"I guess I can put up with this for a little while longer," he said with a tiny head tilt.

"Yeah, you know, that's pretty much what gets me through the day. You," Blaine added, kissing Kurt on the cheek. Kurt smiled.

"On the other hand," Blaine continued, "having the guys flanking me all the time is kind of cool. I feel like Obama."

"Yeah, that's probably what Puck thinks too; he likes to pretend he's in the Secret Service," Kurt said. "At least that's what he said when they were all trying to keep me from going to Dalton."

Blaine chuckled. "Hey, you know what I just realized?" he said. "We never celebrated our anniversary."

"Our anniversary is next year, silly."

"I mean, the anniversary of the first time we met."

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh..."

"You remember that fateful day in which you attempted to spy on the Warblers, and you casually caught my arm on the staircase at Dalton."

"You're right. We forgot. And we didn't get Puck a present."

Blaine frowned in confusion. "Wait, you lost me. What does Puck have to do with it?"

"Didn't I tell you? It was his idea. He told me to go spy on you guys," Kurt said with a smile.

"Did he now?" Blaine mused, a grin spreading across his face.

"It turned out to be a great idea, didn't it?"

"We better think of something really good to get him for _our_ anniversary, then."

They suddenly forgot all about slushies, not to mention their History homework, and they started a full-blown make out session, hoping no one would come knocking around for a while. As long as they kept quiet, maybe no one in the house had to know.

* * *

><p>Nothing else happened for an entire week.<p>

No slushy facials, no threatening anonymous calls, no graffiti on their cars, nothing. It seemed that Finn was right, and the gossip had been confined to the choir room.

Blaine and Kurt eventually forgot they had been worried at all. They decided to focus on other things; like spending almost every minute of their spare time with each other. Thanksgiving was coming up, and the teachers were giving them more homework. It was the perfect excuse to be together: tons of doing homework together, and the fact that it would be a long holiday weekend apart, because they would each be with their families.

They spent the afternoons after school either at Kurt's house or Blaine's, while their parents were still at work. Blaine was fortunate enough to be an only child, but Kurt still sometimes had to sort out what to do about Finn's presence. Lucky for them, Finn spent a lot of time with Rachel, either arguing or making out in her room, in her house. So most of the time, Blaine and Kurt would have a whole house to themselves, at least for a few hours.

The following weekend it was Burt and Carole's first anniversary. Since they had skipped on their honeymoon after the wedding, they were treating themselves to a whole weekend away at a fancy hotel in Westerville. They left on Friday evening, and left the boys to their own devices. Finn being Finn, considered having a party. Melrose being Melrose, warned him that if he didn't move the party elsewhere and leave the house to Kurt for the weekend, she'd do the mouth ripping Kurt had warned him about.

* * *

><p>They were no longer nervous.<p>

Blaine really enjoyed stripping Kurt, stylishly put-together Kurt; it was like he could see something else in him when he was naked. The carefully selected clothes were just the top layers of the Kurt he loved, a shield he wore to protect himself from the world, but underneath those layers was this magnetic human being who was not afraid of anything.

As for Blaine, he had been changing slowly since he left Dalton, allowing the walls that he had so carefully put up to come down too. But in that level of intimacy, it was like he was bursting with a raw passion that he had been keeping in for too long.

"Sometimes I think I love you so much it's actually a bit scary," Blaine said absentmindedly, stroking Kurt's bare back.

Sleepily, Kurt lifted his head from where it was nuzzled in Blaine's neck and looked at him in the dark. For a moment, Blaine thought he had actually been asleep.

"Scary? What? Why?" the pale boy asked in a soft voice. Blaine sighed and took a while to respond.

"It's just... I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I ever lost you."

"Why would you think you'd lose me?" Kurt asked again. As if to dispel any trouble in Blaine's mind, he reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers, resting the joined hands on Blaine's chest.

"I don't know," Blaine shook his head, banging it lightly against the headboard as he did. "I think too much sometimes, it's like I enjoy scaring myself. It's just my mind running rampant, making my heart uneasy for no good reason at all."

"Tell your mind to leave your poor heart alone," Kurt muttered tiredly against Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine chuckled. "I'll try."

There was a pause, and Blaine listened carefully as Kurt's breathing seemed to even out, and he himself tried to sleep, but his mind was still excited from earlier, and from the realization that this time, they _would_ wake up next to each other in the morning.

Kurt stirred and let out a long breath, tickling Blaine's neck as he did.

"And what does your heart have to say in all this?" he asked, eyes closed. Blaine chuckled again.

"My heart really likes you, so he tries not to focus on those scary ideas."

"Oh but it has them too? Scary ideas?"

"Well, it's not a perfect heart, you see."

"It is to mine."

Blaine let out a laugh and kissed the top of Kurt's head.

"When did we become so sappy?" he asked, making a face.

"Some time around 'I love you so much it's scary'."

"_Touché,_" Blaine snickered.

* * *

><p>After another uneventful week, and seeing that Blaine and Kurt were no longer upset about it, some of the Glee kids felt confident enough now to even talk about it, albeit in the privacy of the choir room. Mostly it was the girls, who decided it was time to enjoy a bit of questioning, teasing and double entendres, in which the two boys in question tried not to take part, but is was rather difficult. The girls were very good at prying.<p>

"So who put the moves on who?" Lauren asked.

"None of your business," Kurt and Blaine replied automatically.

"I already knoooow," Mercedes sang, smiling wickedly.

"Dammit, Mercedes!" Kurt exclaimed angrily.

But while they ignored all the teasing that ensued, they could hardly ignore each other, and that sometimes got in the way of focus in class.

Kurt had a constant urge to touch Blaine, any part of him, to be in continuous contact. Whether it was their shoulders grazing, or playing with his fingers, or Blaine's hand in the back of Kurt's neck. It was that longing that kept them both in an idiotic state of bliss, searching for one another like lost puppies.

That elated feeling is what carried him all the way to Friday, like whichever moment that Blaine wasn't there was a waste of time, and so the week went by in a blur.

He found himself humming when he reached his locker in the morning, his mind a jumble of thoughts and plans and hopes for the weekend. The only thing keeping him from getting ahead of himself was Glee club. As promised, Mr. Schue had started planning seriously for Sectionals, and thus everything they had discussed since the last competition was Mercedes's solo and original songs.

Someone snuck up behind him and pecked him on the cheek. Knowingly he smiled, as Blaine leaned against the locker next to Kurt's and grinned.

"So my dad has a weekend conference in Seattle, and my mom thought she'd visit my grandmother in Baltimore, since we won't be over for Thanksgiving," Blaine started. "So I'll be home alone. _All weekend_." He made a pout. Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so what are you going to do, you poor thing, all by yourself in that big house?" he joked.

"Well, I was hoping that my lovely boyfriend would come and keep me company," Blaine replied, pretending to fidget like a nervous kid, "and keep me entertained. Somehow."

"In case you need ideas, Fluffy, Flipper, there's a special on the Discovery Channel tonight about mating rituals in dolphins. Just saying," Melrose joked, as she passed them and overheard them. She hurried away when Kurt gave her a murderous look. Blaine laughed.

"No, seriously, I thought we could get together with Wes and David and talk about where we want to go in New York; if we're going to any shows, then we should get tickets now, before they're completely sold out," he explained. "And maybe we could choose a place for a nice dinner."

"For just us?"

"Just us."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from smiling, because his cheeks were starting to hurt. "You know, you're making it very difficult to have patience until New Year. It feels like it's so close and yet so far."

"I can't wait either," Blaine said, tugging at Kurt's pinky for less than a second. "See you in Spanish."

"See you," this time Kurt couldn't help smiling as he watched his boyfriend walk away. Kurt closed his locker and started toward the French classroom.

The smile vanished somewhat when he realized he was headed in the same direction as Dave Karofsky. Of course, they had French together. He leveled with him.

"Hi, Dave," he said politely.

Dave barely acknowledged him at first, but then he looked him up and down and gave a chuckle.

"What?" Kurt asked annoyed.

"Nothing. It's nice to see you don't look like a Smurf anymore," was the reply. Kurt shook his head.

"Regardless of a few stains, my integrity and my pride are intact."

"Well, congratulations to you and your blueberry-flavored pride," Dave said coldly.

Kurt almost let it go; he didn't need to put up with Dave's mockery. But he knew where the coldness and the mockery came from. And Kurt really wanted im to stop using those mechanisms of defense.

"What happened to all the promises, Dave?" Kurt asked with a sigh.

Dave almost did a double-take, but kept on going.

"I never made any promises," he answered, and Kurt detected a bit of hesitation.

"Well, then, what happened to the silent, unassuming progress you had made?" Kurt continued, dropping his voice. "What about the Bullywhips? What about PFFLAG? What about you?"

Dave slowed down. They had made it to the French classroom, but it was still empty, except for three girls in the back, too immersed in their own animated chattering to notice them.

"I can't have this conversation anymore," Dave said, standing just outside the doorway. Kurt stood opposite him, clutching his books to his chest. He detected anger and exhaustion in Dave's voice, the larger boy swaying in the spot, like he couldn't will himself to move.

"A few months ago, right here on this spot, you told me you were sorry for everything that you had done to me, and I know how difficult that was for you," Kurt started. "I thought you were ready to move forward on your own, or at least let someone help you."

Dave didn't say anything.

"What are you so afraid of?" Kurt asked. "Of slushies? Of what people are going to say? Are those things scary enough for you that you prefer to live a lie?"

"I don't need your approval," Dave said quietly, his voice trembling with a hint of anger. "And I don't need your help."

"Yes you do. You're crying for help. You're trapped inside your own mind, and you're screaming for someone to help you come out of it."

"Stop."

Kurt obeyed. He didn't mean to push Dave's buttons. He didn't want to make him angry or miserable or anything. But he wanted some sort of reaction. Last year had been the beginning of a downward spiral for him, and Kurt was afraid that Dave might eventually hit rock bottom. As much as he had once resented him for all the hard times, Kurt now yearned for some redemption, for both of them.

"It's not going to make a difference, anyway," Dave whispered, mostly to himself.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked. The other boy looked down at his shoes.

"Never mind," he said, finally willing himself to walk in. He sat at the far left end of the classroom and kept his eyes trained on his desk.

Kurt stood there for a second, feeling a bit defeated, until Tina and Brittany came in and animatedly pulled him along with them. The three of them sat near the front and were talking about something Santana had said to Rachel that apparently was very funny. Then Melrose came in, and all the students filed in as the bell rang, and Kurt tried to forget all about the pointless conversation he'd just had with the most stubborn person he had ever met.

But as Melrose started writing phrases on the whiteboard and talking about irregular verbs, Kurt thought he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Dave would sneak glances at him regularly. He didn't know what to make out of that.

* * *

><p>Coach Beiste announced that from that Friday, the team had an extra hour of football practice, due to a really important game coming up prior to Thanksgiving weekend. If football and Glee club clashed, Mr. Schue would have to give in. He really didn't want any rifts between him and coach Beiste.<p>

"Unless you guys don't mind holding Glee club after football practice is over," he said to Blaine, Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes, once he ran into them in the hallway before last period.

The kids looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't mind at all. I think we really need to focus on the competition from now on, and if that means sacrificing an extra hour of our spare time so we can shine our skills, I think it's something we should all be willing to do," Rachel said, characteristically.

It sat both well and bad with Kurt. He really wanted Glee club practice, because Mercedes had been rehearsing her solo, and he really wanted to hear it; he also really wanted to go to the movies with Blaine and _not_ watch a movie. Plus, they were supposed to plan their New York trip with Wes and David. But since Rachel always got her way, and Mercedes and Blaine seemed to agree with Rachel, Kurt had to give in as well.

"Great, we'll still have to check with the rest of New Directions, and if everyone's on board with it, we'll wait for the boys to come back," Will said, hurrying away as the bell rang.

* * *

><p>Melrose was sitting atop the piano playing 'Friday I'm in love' by The Cure on the ukulele, while Brad the pianist watched her, annoyed. Will was arranging sheet music next to her. The girls plus Blaine and Kurt were talking among themselves, shuffling around the room restlessly as they waited for football practice to be over. Tina disappeared for a while to the bathroom, saying something about not feeling well, and Brittany did cartwheels.<p>

Blaine wrapped his left arm around Kurt while he chatted with Mercedes, and the boy absentmindedly grabbed a pen and started doodling on his arm. He drew a little heart on Blaine's wrist.

An hour went by. The boys from the football team were a no show.

"I've been texting Finn and Mike to ask if they could hurry up, but I guess practice is still not over," Will said when he saw the time.

"Yeah, they leave their cellphones inside their lockers. That means they're not done yet," Lauren said.

"Why don't we get started without them?" Rachel asked, sitting upright. "I have some great ideas for lyrics for the song that Mercedes should perform as a solo. It's my best work yet."

"We'll submit it to a vote," Will replied.

"Wait, you guys write original songs?" Melrose asked.

"It's perfectly okay for them to want to write their own songs," Will sighed.

"I didn't say it wasn't. I think it's great; it's creative and inspirational," Melrose said. "Different."

"And they're actually pretty good, if I may offer my humble, unbiased opinion," Blaine volunteered. "The first time they did it, Kurt and I were in The Warblers, and we were up against them. And they cleaned our clock."

"We're up against the Warblers again this year, on Sectionals," Will said.

"Yes! Well, no worries there, then," Rachel exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air.

"What makes you so confident, Rachel?" Will asked.

"Mr. Schue, in case you haven't noticed, we have Kurt back, and now Blaine's with us too. The Warblers don't stand a chance."

"Well, they have a new soloist," Will replied, "and I wouldn't underestimate him."

"He's not bad," Blaine admitted. "But Wes told me, he's not as reliable as me," he whispered to Kurt, with a wink, and Kurt laughed.

"We just don't want to get overconfident," Will continued. "Although I _was_ hoping to reserve our original material for when we move on to Regionals, when we will most likely have to face Vocal Adrenaline. Again," he added for emphasis.

"No original song? But I worked so hard..." Rachel's face fell.

"And we'll submit it to a vote," Will assured her. "But your best work should be held off for when the competition gets fiercer. I actually kind of want to see if we can pull off a mash-up with some of the best songs you guys have done during our in-house competitions. Like our duets winners, and our winning solos."

"Yes!" Kurt exclaimed this time. He really, really wanted Blaine's 'Pride' performance to be counted.

"And, just like last year on Sectionals, I'd also like to give a bit more emphasis to dancing. I think it can help us stand out more, too."

"Do you kids still have your sheet music?"

"I have mine, yeah," Mercedes pulled out her binder and looked through he papers. Blaine and Quinn rifled through their bags too.

"I have 'Clocks' in my car. I'll go get it," Kurt announced, reaching for his car keys.

"Could you perhaps see how practice is going?" Will said, as Kurt climbed down the raisers. "If it's gonna take longer, we'll probably have to postpone Glee practice. The janitor is not too happy with us staying here so late; not to mention, the boys will probably be creamed after a long practice," Will said.

"Fine, I'll do that too," Kurt said, heading out the door.

"See, this would have never happened in my days here in McKinley, because no member of the football team would've ever joined Glee club," Melrose commented.

"Well, things have changed since you were in Glee club," Will said.

"You wish," Melrose said wistfully.

* * *

><p>Kurt slammed the door of his car and popped a stick of gum in his mouth. He always kept a few useful things in the glove compartment, including gum, Tylenol, mints, a box of tissues, a nail file, a comb, a tiny bottle of cologne and hand wipes. Whenever Finn used the car, sometimes Kurt would find a crumpled Twix wrapper and a packet of ketchup in there.<p>

He locked the car, stashed the sheet music in his bag, and started toward the building again. But from where he had parked, it would be a shorter walk around the outside of the building, past the back of the cafeteria kitchen. That path led directly to the football field. It was usually empty, except on game days, when people would walk directly to the stands.

He walked past the dumpsters and stopped.

Two figures appeared around the corner. Senior students, or at least they looked like it. But Kurt had never seen them before, so he guessed they might be from another school, sneaking in to watch the opposing football team's practice. At least they looked like they could be football players as well, though neither was wearing a varsity jacket.

One of them, a burly dark-skinned boy, playfully punched the other one, who was taller and very pale, his hair almost platinum. They reminded Kurt of Azimio and Karofsky when they walked together down the hallways. They were talking and laughing and making too many hand gestures, when they caught sight of him.

"Yo, check it out, man," the dark boy said.

"Aw he looks like a china doll, like the ones my grandma has," the blonde one said.

"Where you goin', pretty lady?"

Kurt didn't know what to do. His mind told him to stop, turn and run, while his heart willed him to keep going, just keep walking, walk past them without a word, without looking at them. He knew that wouldn't work, but that's what his courage was telling him to do.

"Hey, you're not ignoring us, are you?" the blonde one called as Kurt tried to beeline past them. He nudged his friend, and they started following Kurt. Trying not to panic, Kurt took longer strides but didn't quicken his pace. All he needed was to get to the other side of the building, where coach Beiste and the football team would be. Then those boys would probably go away.

"Hey," one of them said, and a heavy hand fell on Kurt's shoulder and forced him to turn around. "We're talking to you, princess. Don't be rude."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was expected to partake on my own verbal abuse," Kurt said before he could stop himself. He could never stop himself.

"Is he being a smart-ass, Jacob?" the dark one asked sarcastically.

"I think so, and I don't think it's good for princesses to be smart-asses," the one named Jacob answered. Reflexively, Kurt tried to memorize their faces while keeping his breathing controlled. But his heart started beating faster, as the two boys stood squarely in front of him, towering over him.

"I think he needs a lesson in manners," Jacob continued.

"And I think you both need a lesson on how things work now that we're not in the Stone age anymore," Kurt snipped, and regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Jacob's grip on his shoulder tightened, so much that Kurt winced.

"Are you saying we're cavemen?" Jacob asked.

"Prove me wrong," Kurt said.

"Oh, I'll prove something to you."

Jacob pushed Kurt roughly against a wall and pinned him there. Kurt dropped his bag and groaned, the wind almost knocked out of him completely. He started to panic.

"Not such a smart-ass now, huh, princess?" the dark boy laughed.

Kurt tried to wriggle free, but Jacob was now pinning him with both hands.

"Hey," he said, squinting at him. "I remember you."

"Yeah?" the other boy asked. Kurt frowned in confusion.

"You're the fairy that used to play in the football team."

Kurt froze. He certainly didn't remember anyone from the other team, considering it had been two years ago that he played. But if these boys recognized him, it wasn't a good sign.

"You're right, man. I knew I'd seen him before. It's the kicker."

"Yeah, that's him."

Kurt felt his left arm going slightly numb as Jacob's grip tightened.

"You know what pissed me off the most about that day? It's not that you beat us," Jacob sneered. "It was that you spread your disease around your entire team. I mean, what the fuck? We get our asses kicked in the last few seconds by a bunch of dancing faggots?"

"Never been more embarrassed," the other boy agreed.

"And we have to play these losers again?"

"At least this one's not on the team anymore, is he? I bet they kicked him out for fear of what he could do to them in the locker room."

Kurt tried to wriggle free again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where do you think you're going, ladyboy? We're not done," Jacob said.

Shouting for help would do no good, he was too far from anyone to be heard. There was a window, but beyond it there was no one inside.

Did he have a fighting chance?

According to Melrose, he did.

"No fruitcake is gonna beat us in a man's game and get away with it." Jacob asked, pulling his left fist back.

_Don't think, just do it._

The guy was tall enough. It would work.

With all the strength he could muster, Kurt thrust his open palm upward, and caught Jacob's nose with the heel of his hand. Jacob's head snapped backward, totally caught off-guard, and Kurt kneed him in the stomach. The blond boy bent over, gasping. His nose started to bleed.

"Wow," Kurt breathed, a little surprised at himself.

"What the-" the dark boy started in shock. Kurt wasted no time. He used his elbow to punch Jacob again, this time on the side of the head; and just as he assumed the dark boy was lurching toward him, Kurt used the heel of his hand again, catching the boy in the jaw, then delivered a swift kick to the shin. The boy swayed back and almost lost his balance.

Kurt took this opportunity to run. He didn't even glance back. But as he turned to run, something caught his foot. Or someone.

"You little faggot!" Jacob shouted, his hand wrapped fiercely around Kurt's ankle. He yanked him back, and Kurt fell flat on his face, this time feeling that all the wind left his lungs. The blond boy picked him up by the neck and the back of his shirt, like a rag doll. He was a lot stronger than Kurt expected. Once he put Kurt upright on his feet, Jacob gripped his his shoulder and grabbed a handful of Kurt's hair.

Kurt winced and opened his eyes. He was now staring into Jacob's face, nose bleeding profusely, face red with anger. He looked demented.

"You messed with the wrong guy, faggot," Jacob growled, before slamming Kurt's head against the window.

* * *

><p><em>And that was it. That was the origin of the story. This chapter and the next are the very first chapters I wrote for this story.<em>

_It was actually inspired by a horrible news report I read on tumblr, about an act of violence against a gay, otherwise known as 'gay bashing'. A guy in his late twenties was attacked by two (or was it three?) guys, for no apparent reason other than the fact that he was gay. His face was severely smashed in, and if I recall correctly, he was unable to walk or talk. They left him unrecognizable and barely alive. He had to undergo 9 hours of surgery just to reconstruct his face._

_He was lucky. He survived in a situation where others have died._

_The story horrified me so much, that I wish I could see it in the news, on television, everywhere, so that more people would see it, and be just as horrified by it, and want to do something about this, to stop it. So that people who do this kind of thing would feel ashamed for every time they have done it. _

__It scares me to think that this could happen to someone I know, especially my gay and lesbian friends, and I will always want to find a way to stop it from happening. __

_I was glad to see they somewhat addressed the issue of violence against gays in Glee, when Blaine tells the story of getting beaten up at a dance in his old school. And it's not like I see something like this happening on Glee. But I somehow wish the message was stronger, to get kids to realize there is nothing positive in beating up a person, no matter who or what they are. Glee is a very influential show, and it's taught a lot of people about tolerance and acceptance. But there's still a long way to go, and hopefully Glee will continue to be a good platform for this kind of outreach. _

_Anyway, that's all I have to say._

_Peace,_

_Valentina_


	12. Chapter 12

_This was practically already written weeks ago. But I'm just posting it now. Sorry. Been busy._

_To the Teacher who reviewed recently: I completely understand your point of view, and thank you for establishing it. Melrose is indeed an irresponsible teacher who shouldn't be allowed to teach, and her shortcomings are often undeservingly covered up by her friends (the glee kids and Will Schuester). However, I think you're judging her too quickly. We don't know everything about her yet, you don't know her motivation for behaving the way she does._

_To sum up what we know so far: She's twenty-two years old, has issues, and she's going through a major crisis; she ran away from a marriage engagement for reasons we haven't found out yet; she barely had role models in her life (parents were practically inexistent); she's never cared much about anything or anyone (with the exception of Kurt and Burt); and she's not without vices (but she's from Europe, so that's normal). The only reason the school hired her (against anyone's better judgment), is because there were no other subs available at the moment, and they were kind of desperate. They also seem to be unaware that she's such a lousy teacher (well, who would look at her CV and think she was qualified in the first place?). And the reason Melrose applied for the job was to be close to Kurt, and the only thing she found she might be able to do in Lima was teach French (after all, she taught Kurt pretty well)._

_Melrose doesn't think much of herself. Her crisis made her run to the only place where she still had some sort of family. What she's looking for is friends to distract her; hence the situation with the drunk kids in her apartment. She thinks of herself as "one of the gang", because she just doesn't want to grow up. She is still rather immature and she doesn't think much of the consequences of her actions. I know people like her. I'm actually one of them._

_I say you're judging her too quickly, because you have yet to give her a chance to make up for her mistakes, learn from them, and come out of her crisis. At least Will is there to help her through. I also understand that you're a young teacher and you can be very responsible no matter how young you are. I've been a teacher myself, and I must say it did help me acquire a sense of responsibility. But I've had teachers, some of them have become great friends of mine, that desperately need a reality check as well; their desire to be "one of the gang", like Melrose, has hindered their ability to make the difference between being cool and approachable and just being plain immature._

_On the other hand, I have to disagree with you on one point you made: in your opinion, Melrose and her behavior seem to you as "very unrealistic, even for a show like Glee"? Really? No offense, but you're talking about the show which features a cheerleading coach that throws tantrums almost every day, shoves students against lockers on a regular basis, plots evilly against the Glee club every week, married herself, dressed up as the Grinch to steal presents, threatened to pull out all of Artie's molars, tried to shoot Brittany out of a human cannon... And that's only one character... I'm sorry, but is that actually normal in American high schools?_

_I'm not making fun of you. I just hope you understand where I'm coming from, just like I understand where you're coming from. Just wanted to make it clear why I wrote her the way I did._

_Maybe I should've put this under a link to my tumblr or something... oh well... Sorry for the length._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. It belongs to Ryan Murphy and FOX._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

The sky overhead faded to grey quickly. It was all he could see for a moment, before he shut his eyes, in an attempt to shut out the pain.

* * *

><p>Football practice ended later than expected; when it was finally over, the guys shuffled tiredly into the locker room, barely speaking, the usually boisterous banter absent from the showers. Coach Beiste had really put them to work today. Most of the guys showered, dressed and started to dwindle pretty quickly.<p>

Dave, however, had been done with practice a bit earlier; coach Beiste had noticed he was distracted and somewhat aloof, and told him to leave before she got any more frustrated with him. But that didn't stop him from being frustrated with himself; he stayed too long in the shower, trying to wash off the defeat by standing immobile under the water stream, and by the time he was done kicking himself mentally, the rest of the time had been finally sent to the showers too. At least they were too tired to speak, otherwise he would've gotten an earful of taunts.

He took his time putting his equipment inside his locker and packing his duffel bag, and sort of watched the Glee guys. As always, they were hanging out together in one corner, trying to stay out of the way of the rest of their teammates, hoping to be spared any grief, at least for the day.

While most of them were too tired to move, Sam and Mike were already getting dressed. Dave blushed and quickly looked away as Sam pulled on a clean t-shirt. He felt bad, he always felt bad if he watched, but he could barely help it.

Taking a deep breath, he slammed his locker shut, and walked past them without a glance in their direction. They ignored him too. He walked out to the field and started on his way home.

When practice ended late, Dave usually went around the school building, because it was closer to the parking lot. No one usually went that way, since it was also the way to the back of the cafeteria, and therefore right by the the extra-smelly cafeteria dumpsters.

But it was a shortcut, and he never ran into anyone he didn't want to see. He never ran into anyone at all. Until this afternoon.

As he approached the corner, he heard the distinct sound of glass breaking, and he stopped.

He looked around for the source of the noise. Coach Beiste was off in the field yelling at the kids gathering equipment. There was no one else nearby. All his teammates left the locker room in the other direction, through the school building, as they always did. There seemed to be no one around, and he didn't see anything.

Hesitantly, he turned the corner. And he saw people there, unlike every other time he used that shortcut.

There were two guys, though he couldn't see them very well, at first glance looked like no one he knew from school. They danced around. No, they weren't dancing. They were stomping on the ground. There was a person on the ground, and they were stomping and kicking at him.

"Hey!" Dave shouted instinctively. These guys were attacking someone, someone who was already down. He tried to look at their faces, but he couldn't tell from where he was standing. All he could make out was bulky and blonde and tall and dark-skinned.

Dave started walking in their direction, bravely, hoping to get a better look. At the sound of his voice, the two boys stopped their abuse and turned to him.

He still could not make out their faces very well. The dark one stood somewhat behind the blond one, while the blond one seemed to have something all over his face. It looked like blood. Their features were darkened by the waning afternoon light, too.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dave called again, sounding braver than he really felt. After all, there was two of them, and only one of him. No one else was around, no one else seemed to have heard the sound of glass shattering. The person on the ground wasn't making any sounds, either.

The dark boy nudged the blond one, and they started to move away, the blond boy wiping the blood off his face in the process, and spitting on the grass.

Shit, he ought to do something. Go after them, or something. But as they darted off, quicker as he approached, he stood there and watched them disappear. He certainly had not been looking for a confrontation, and he was glad that he at least he had stopped them and scared them away. He thought he'd better help whoever was on the ground.

His eyes widened in horror as soon as they fell on the prone figure.

"Kurt?"

Kurt Hummel lay limply on his side, his left arm pinned awkwardly under his body, his right arm lying on the grass at a weird angle. He had blood coming from his nose, his lips, and a wound on his forehead. There were cuts all over his body.

Dave fell to his knees beside him and grabbed his shoulder. "Kurt!" he yelled, shaking him gently. "Kurt! Wake up! Shit!" he exclaimed and ran his hands over his own hair nervously. He looked around. There was no one in sight. The attackers had already disappeared. "Fuck!" he leapt to his feet and took a couple of steps back, then ran the way he came from.

"Coach Beiste!" he yelled. "Finn! Somebody! Help!"

About fifty yards away, he saw the female coach look up and spot him, and he waved his arms before disappearing around the corner again.

"Kurt? Wake up, Kurt," he kept saying, dropping next to him again, and shaking him over and over, as slightly and carefully as he could. His mouth was dry.

Dave could never imagine doing this to someone; leaving someone like this. He used to shove kids into lockers, throw them in dumpsters, slushy them. But beat them until they were rendered unconscious?

He didn't know what to do. He felt like he never knew what to do. He was scared all the time, but now he was even more scared. He was panicking.

"Please, Kurt, please," he said in a trembling voice.

Suddenly, Kurt opened his eyes.

"D...you..." Kurt mumbled unintelligibly, as more blood seeped from his mouth onto a little puddle on the grass.

"I didn't do this to you," was all Dave could say, his voice breaking. Kurt kept looking at him, but didn't say anything else. His gaze seemed lost, like he was looking straight through Dave.

He hoped Kurt believed him. He wondered if he even knew what had happened.

Maybe he shouldn't have scared them away. Maybe he should've gone for help and come back with a bunch of people, but what if they had left while he went for help? Then he wouldn't have been able to see them, their faces. He started trying to remember their faces. Their clothes.

He heard them coming, whoever they were. He relaxed a little. He sure as hell didn't know what to do in a situation like this, he was never good with emergencies. Someone else would know what to do. Kurt would be fine. He had to be fine.

* * *

><p>"What was that?" Artie asked.<p>

"Sounded like glass breaking," Sam answered, pulling his varsity jacket out of his locker and putting it on. He slammed the door shut, and Artie shushed him. "What?"

"Nothing. I just thought I'd hear something else."

"Shit, I think I busted my knee. Hope Mr. Schue doesn't expect us to dance today. I need to put heat on this, and drug myself or something," Puck declared, rubbing his right knee and wincing.

"I hope he doesn't really expect us at all anymore. I'd hate to be the one to tell him that he and the others just waited for over an hour for nothing," Mike said tiredly, shoving his dirty clothes into his bag and zipping it close. "I really just want to go home."

"Well, according to this message, they're still waiting for us," Finn said, pulling his cellphone out of his locker. There were a few texts from Mr. Schue and a couple from Rachel. "I guess we better get a move on, if only to beg them to postpone practice."

"I'll just get dressed without showering, then. If I stand under the hot water stream, I'll stay there forever." Puck shrugged.

"Shh!" Artie hissed.

They shut up, giving Artie annoyed looks. But suddenly they were all as alert as him. They all heard the voice.

"Did someone call my name?" Finn asked.

"And then 'help'?" Mike added.

"We better go see," Artie said, wheeling himself toward the door.

"Unless it's some prank by the other guys on us Glee guys. As you can see, we're the only ones left here," Puck announced. But they started moving out of the already empty locker room.

"Finn," coach Beiste said, coming through the door that led to the field. "Something's going on."

"Wh-what happened?" Finn asked nervously.

"I don't know, but follow me," she said, and she ran back out to the field.

The five boys followed her, Puck pushing Artie so they could keep up. Coach Beiste was heading to the side of the school building, a shortcut most people rarely used on weekdays, because of the smell from the cafeteria dumpsters.

They rounded the corner, and Finn saw Dave Karofsky leap up to his feet.

"I didn't know what to do, I wanted to call for help, but I left my phone in my locker, and I thought I shouldn't leave him either, I don't know how bad he is, I saw the guys who did it, but they're gone, and I thought of going after them but I didn't want to leave him," Dave said in one runaway sentence as the coach and the five boys ran up to him. They looked down, and saw that Dave was standing next to a person lying on the ground. Finn registered who it was.

"Kurt! Oh my God, Kurt!"

He dropped to his knees beside his step-brother, much like Dave had done just before. The pale boy was paler still, and he looked at Finn and tried to talk. There was glass everywhere. The window behind them was smashed.

"He's awake," Dave said, now sounding like he was trying to hold back a sob, "he's still awake, but I haven't called for help because I don't have my phone with-" before he could finish his sentence, Puck and Finn had slammed him up against the wall and held him there.

"What did you do?" Finn shouted, face red with rage.

"What the fuck did you do?" Puck echoed, just as fiercely.

"Hey!"

"You son of a bitch! You did this to him!" Finn yelled.

"I didn't! I found him! There were two guys!" Dave shouted in response. Both Finn and Puck were breathing heavily into his face, and he blinked back tears.

"You've always threatened to do it!" Finn shook him roughly.

"No! No, I-"

"You pushed it, Karofsky! I warned you!" Puck sneered.

"I swear it wasn't me!"

"Hey!"

Finn and Puck were suddenly pulled off of him by coach Beiste. "That's enough! Finn, we have to help your brother first," she shouted, shaking Finn and Puck slightly by their arms. The boys were shaking with rage.

Dave didn't move, gasping for breath and trembling. He saw Artie had pulled out his phone and had already dialed 911. Sam and Mike were leaning over Kurt.

"Kurt? Stay with us," Sam was saying.

"Stay put, Karofsky," coach Beiste said.

"What do we do?" Mike asked, as Sam was pulling off his jacket and putting it over Kurt.

"We have to keep him awake," Sam answered. Finn started running his hands nervously through his hair, not knowing what else to do while Artie talked into his phone.

"McKinley High School, outside the main building... my name is Artie Abrams... My friend was attacked, he's bleeding from a wound on the head, several wounds, and we think he might have a concussion... yes, he's awake..."

"Kurt, do you know where you are?" Sam asked. He was impressively calm, a steady hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt blinked at him. When he tried to talk, however, he coughed, and spat blood.

"Take it easy, help is on the way. Just stay with us," Sam said soothingly. Finn wrung his hands.

"An ambulance will be here soon," Artie announced, holding the phone away from his ear. "Someone has to tell Mr. Schue and Principal Figgins. And Melrose. And Kurt's dad." He listened into the phone again. "Yes, he's still awake."

"Call your mom, Finn," Mike said, standing up. "I'll go get Melrose and Mr. Schue."

"Try to keep it under control, Chang," coach Beiste said. Mike nodded and sprinted away toward the main entrance.

"Blaine's gonna freak out," Sam said under his breath.

"Finn, call your mom, or call Kurt's dad," Artie urged.

"Yeah, yeah," Finn answered absentmindedly, taking his phone out of his pocket. "What do I say? I don't know what to say," he asked, his hand shaking.

"Just tell them that Kurt's been hurt, and that we've already called for help and they'll take them to a hospital, and that they should meet us there," Artie answered.

"Okay..." Finn said, dialing his mom. He'd talk to her and she'd talk to Burt. Finn couldn't possibly explain this to Burt. Not after everything that had happened; not after he promised he had Kurt's back.

"Kurt? Hey, Kurt..." Sam said.

Finn looked over as he waited for his mom to pick up. Sam was prying one of Kurt's eyelids up and looking closely at his eye. "Don't fall asleep on me, man, stay with me," he said calmly. He slapped Kurt's cheek gently.

"Don't hit him! What are you thinking?" Finn shouted.

"Finn, relax, I'm just trying to keep him conscious. Kurt?" Sam rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a tiny flashlight. He forced Kurt's eye open again and shined the light into it, looking closely.

"Maybe we should lay him on his back," Puck suggested nervously. "He looks uncomfortable."

"No. If he has a concussion, he should be on his side. In case he throws up," Sam answered. "His pupils are not dilated. But you need to stay awake, Kurt."

"What are you, a boy scout?" Puck asked.

"We had first aid training at my old school."

There was a click on Finn's phone as the call disconnected. His mother hadn't picked up. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and tried again.

"I think I hear the ambulance," Artie said. "Thank you, ma'am," he added into his phone and shut off the call. "The dispatcher said the ambulance is here. Puck, go let them know where we are."

Obediently, Puck raced toward the parking lot, as the sound of sirens filled the air.

* * *

><p>"Where are they? I wanna go home!" Santana complained loudly.<p>

"Maybe we should just go home. They won't want to rehearse anyway. They're probably too tired," Tina suggested.

"Coach Beiste is gonna have them killed," Rachel said, shaking her head.

"Kurt went to get them, they should be here any minute," Will said. "They're tough boys, they'll at least sit through Glee practice, even if they don't contribute much."

"I feel kind of bad for them," Mercedes said.

"I feel ind of hungry," Brittany said.

"You're always hungry," Santana said.

"I'm hungry too," Blaine said.

"Me too," Lauren said.

"Let's go have pizza at my place," Melrose announced.

"Seriously?" Quinn asked.

"Sure. That's not to say I'm buying, but we can have pizza and hang out. I like having you guys over," Melrose replied. She looked at the choir teacher and sighed. "You can come too, Will."

The kids groaned.

"I feel like I have an obligation to be there. Last time you guys went to 'Melrose Place' unsupervised," Will said, making quotation marks with his fingers, "you all got drunk. Again."

"Nothing happened. I'm not that big of a dolt," Melrose complained.

"It was still inappropriate. They're underage," Will retorted.

"I already told you it won't happen again," she said.

"I'm still going. You already invited me, anyway," Will said.

"I already regret it," Melrose rolled her eyes.

"We can practice in Miss Rococo's apartment, seeing as we're gonna have to eventually move the practice elsewhere if the guys don't get here soon," Will continued. "We have no time to waste. We really have to do something to improve our chances of winning, that do not include spying on the competition or trying to sabotage them. I really think, if we can build the performance around-"

Mike Chang burst through the doorway, and Will turned in surprise.

"Ah, finally! Where are the others?" he asked.

Mike walked briskly toward Will and Melrose, and started talking really fast in a very hushed tone. The other kids couldn't hear at all.

"What?" Will said after a moment, looking worried. Melrose's mouth fell open. Without a word or a second thought, she ran out of the choir room, her heavy boots echoing down the empty hallway.

"Coach Beiste is with them?" Will asked. Mike nodded. Will looked at the students, who all stared back puzzled.

"Stay here, kids. I'll come back," Will announced in a very serious tone.

"Something wrong, Mr. Schue?" Blaine asked.

"Blaine, stay!" Will warned, pointing an index finger at Blaine directly, and briskly followed Mike out of the room.

Blaine sat stock still, shocked and confused, and the girls looked at each other worriedly. Something definitively had happened, and it wasn't good. It was bad enough to put Mr. Schue on edge, and make Melrose run off.

"You don't think..." Mercedes started.

Blaine didn't wait for her to finish, and he leapt out of his chair and ran after them. The girls hesitated for a moment, but promptly sprinted after him too.

* * *

><p>Mike led them out of the school building; in the gloom of the darkening day, the first thing they noticed were the red and blue lights. There was an ambulance parked on the grass in the area beside the building, around the back of the cafeteria, and a police car next to it. Whatever had happened was more serious than they thought.<p>

They hurried past the dumpsters and toward the entrance to the football field. No one ever went that way unless there was a game. Now the area was somewhat crowded with paramedics, two cops, a few onlookers, and the Glee club guys.

"Shannon," Will said as soon as he saw the female football coach. She waved him over.

"Karofsky says there were two guys who didn't look like they attended McKinley," she said as soon as he was near.

The paramedics were huddled around a person on the ground. Blaine and the girls saw Finn frantically listening to his phone, and Sam standing near one of the paramedics, talking to her hurriedly. Blaine's heart started racing.

"Who is it?" Quinn asked, who seemed rather relieved to see that Sam was okay.

"Mom! Finally!" Finn exclaimed into his phone. "Listen, they're taking Kurt to the hospital. He was attacked, we still don't know what happened. You have to tell Burt. They're taking him to Lima Memorial-"

Blaine suddenly pushed past him, followed by Mercedes and Quinn, and the other girls, before Will could stop them. Sam and Melrose had to stop Blaine from going any further, as the paramedics were busy tending to Kurt.

"Kurt?" Blaine called, trying to see his boyfriend over the sea of heads.

Kurt was on his back now, wearing a neck brace, as a paramedic was putting his right arm in a splinter, and another one talked to him and shone a flashlight into his face.

"Can you tell me where you are? Kurt, do you know where you are?"

"We have to get the swelling on his arm down. Might also have a broken rib."

"Get me two ice packs and a shot of-"

"Kurt!"

"Blaine, calm down. He's going to be fine," Sam said, gripping his friend's arm to hold him back. "They'll take care of him now."

Blaine wondered how Sam could possibly be so calm. He watched as the paramedics talked among themselves, saying things no one else understood, and lifting Kurt onto a gurney, pushing him toward the ambulance. Kurt's eyes were open, but somewhat hazy, staring blankly up at the sky, and he didn't see any of his friends watching him as they wheeled him by. The medic who had been talking to Sam earlier and asking Kurt routine questions, turned to them.

"Who's riding with us?" she asked.

Finn, who was wringing his cellphone between his hands, shot forward at once. "I am."

"I'm sorry, kid, but I meant an adult."

"But I'm his brother!" Finn protested.

"I'll go, Finn. I'll meet you there," Will said quickly, already climbing into the ambulance. "Melrose, would you drive Finn to the hospital so he can meet his parents there?"

Melrose stared in shock as Will sat beside Kurt inside.

The group watched as the medics closed the doors and the ambulance pulled away. The police car remained, with its blue and red lights still spinning. The few kids who had been standing around started to leave.

Melrose was breathing long and hard, as if she were trying to remain calm. She turned to the kids. "Finn, Blaine, come on. I'll take you guys to the hospital. The rest of you, you'll have to find your own means of transportation if you want to come."

"Of course we want to come," Rachel said, seemingly on the verge of tears.

"You have room for one more, don't you?" Mercedes asked. Melrose nodded.

"We can go in my car," Artie said. "It's a minivan, so you'll all fit in."

"Hold on, Melanie," coach Beiste interrupted, putting a hand on Melrose's shoulder. "These officers are here to find out about the incident, and no one should leave until the boys present and the moment are interrogated."

"They can ask their questions at the hospital. These kids are in no state to answer anything right now, they just want to see their friend," Melanie replied, somewhat angrily. She turned to the two officers taking notes. "I'm pretty sure you have to interrogate Kurt too, as to what happened, and you can't do that now."

"The only person they really gotta ask is Karofsky," Puck interjected, sneering at the person to his left.

Blaine looked down. For the first time, he noticed Dave Karofsky sitting there, his back to the wall, knees bent and arms folded over his chest. He looked up a the mention of his name and stood up.

"I already told you, I didn't do anything! I saw who did it," Dave pleaded.

"Calm down, Mr. Karofsky, we're not done with your statement," one of the officers said.

"I saw them! There were two! I didn't do this!" Dave shouted, angrier this time. "I wouldn't do this!"

"Yes, you would! You said it last year! You threatened to kill him!" Finn yelled, shaking with rage.

Dave looked terrified. Santana swallowed hard and watched him sympathetically; Brittany was holding her hands over her mouth. The rest of them just looked shocked, mouths hanging open in horror.

"I didn't mean it... I told him I didn't mean it," Dave said in a very low voice. "I could never do that to anyone."

Finn was still shaking, and Rachel grabbed his arm, if only to try to calm him down. Dave didn't look at him; instead, he watched Blaine and Melrose.

"Blaine... Miss Melanie... you have to believe me," he said to them. He looked like he was fighting back tears.

The others looked at the three of them, and then at each other in confusion. Blaine looked away, unable to respond at the moment. He didn't care, he couldn't care right now. All he wanted right now was to be with Kurt.

Melrose, however, met Dave's pleading eyes, and she gave a shaky sigh.

"I believe you," she finally said. Finn glared at her in outrage and stalked off, toward Melrose's Volvo.

Dave looked somewhat relieved. Melrose approached him to speak to him quietly.

"But what good is that gonna do now?" she added in a whisper.

He stared after her, as she nudged Blaine and Mercedes to follow her, and they caught up with Finn and crossed the near-empty parking lot to Melrose's car. The rest of the Glee club motioned to follow; Puck threw one last dirty look in Dave's direction.

"Come on, Dave, we should go to Principal Figgins," coach Beiste said. "Officers, I believe we ought to have this boy's father present before you ask any further questions, am I right?"

Dave watched the kids drive away hurriedly, and reluctantly followed coach Beiste and the police officers into the building.

* * *

><p>He sat through another excruciating hour in Principal Figgins's office, getting asked the same questions more than once, saying the same things over and over.<p>

_What did they look like, what were they doing, which way did they leave, what was the state in which you found Mr. Hummel._

All pointless questions now. He answered them all, but the two police officers gave no sign to be about to jump up, leap into their patrol car and head off into a frenetic chase for the perpetrators.

They just sat there, writing down stuff.

"Where were you just before the incident?"  
>The incident. Dave tried not to snort. He just sighed tiredly.<p>

"I told you, I just finished showering and changing in the lockers after football practice, and I was heading to the parking lot."

"And why did you not go the way that most students go, which is through the inside of the school building?"

"I use that route when practice ends late, but not too late that it's dark. Sometimes I don't feel like going through the whole building. It's much shorter to the parking lot the other way."

"Had you ever seen these boys before, wandering the area?"

"Not that I would remember."

"Have you ever seen them elsewhere? Like at the mall or another public space?"

"I don't know."

"Mr. Karofsky, what is your history with Mr. Hummel?"

Paul Karofsky looked up at his son, and Dave squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself somewhere far from here, but that was pointless.

"I... he and I have had issues in the past," he said diplomatically.

"Care to elaborate?"

Taking a deep breath, Dave did his best to summarize the version that most people were familiar with, especially the details that his father already knew. He was careful not to be too descriptive about his encounters with Kurt. He put extra emphasis on the Bullywhips part, and on how he was now in rather good terms with Kurt.

"I think we have everything we need. We'll be in touch."

"Thank you, officers," Mr. Karofsky said. He spoke briefly with Principal Figgins and coach Beiste, while the police officers put on their caps and adjusted their coats and walked out the door.

Dave shuffled out of the office slowly, watching the cops walk away.

"Are you okay, son?" Mr. Karofsky asked, appearing next to him.

Dave carefully tried not to convey through his face how much he wanted to break something or scream uncontrollably. Or both. He tried to look relieved, which in part he was. But he was tired and mentally exhausted and worried and scared and in so much pain that he was starting to feel numb.

"Yeah," he said simply, and let his father put one arm around his shoulders and lead him gently out.

* * *

><p>It started raining.<p>

Dave sat in the passenger seat of his dad's car, listening to the soft music drifting from the radio. His father didn't allow him to drive, just in case he was too overwhelmed by the afternoon events. So Dave's car would sit on the school parking lot until the next day.

He needed to run. He wished he could have ran all the way from the school, and not stop until he reached his house, breathless and rain-soaked and in pain. He needed to feel something, he needed something to make him feel alive. He just felt too numb and the moment, he almost thought he was drifting away.

"Hey," his father's voice cut through his reverie. They were already home. The car was sitting on the garage, and the garage door was closing slowly behind them.

Wordlessly, he turned to his father and watched his kind face trying to muster a smile.

"You did well. You reacted well. Coach Beiste told me."

Dave nodded automatically.

"It's going to be fine, son," Mr. Karofsky added, patting his son on the shoulder.

Dave nodded again, but he barely registered the words.

He walked through the kitchen door and climbed upstairs, before his mother could ask him any questions. His father let him go, with a gesture to his wife that he would explain everything.

Dave shut the door of his room. He paced for a bit in front of his bed. He started shivering and he could barely breathe. He dashed into the bathroom and locked the door and turned on the hot water in the shower. Without thinking twice, without taking any of his clothes off, he stepped under the hot stream of water and sat down in the tub, and let the heat take over him. And when he felt he could breathe again, he let the tears come.

* * *

><p><em>I wish I knew the names and school of the boys. There's nothing anywhere about it. If anyone knows anything and is willing to collaborate with me, let me know on a review or at my email:<em>

_I'm supposed to be done before the hiatus is over. Can't wait for the new season. My life shall have meaning again._

_Thanks for reading. I promise next chapter won't be long._

_-Valentina_


	13. Chapter 13

_This took me a bit longer than I expected. Only because I've been so busy this week. But it's coming along._

_I also spent too much time catching up on all the episodes of Glee Project I had missed. Yay Damian! I'm so happy. Season 3 is not coming around fast enough. _

_I haven't started the revising I said I'd do. Maybe this weekend. _

_I've been listening to a lot of Barcelona for inspiration (which is ironic, because I'm from Madrid). _

_Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and the team of writers, and FOX. I own only Melrose and her rabbit Jack._

* * *

><p>B<span>lackened blue eyes<span>

-by HappyValentina

The waiting room was full of noises, but no one was talking. They had been there for almost an hour, and nobody had come to talk to them yet.

When Finn, Blaine, Mercedes and Melrose walked into the emergency area of Lima Memorial, Burt and Carole were already there, just one step ahead of them. They hugged Finn, and Burt hugged Melrose, and they started speaking to each other and to the triage nurse so frantically that they could barely make sense.

Then Will appeared. He said he had spoken to the doctor on duty, just before they whisked Kurt away for examination. Will told them that Kurt had been awake the whole ambulance ride, and the doctor assured him that he wasn't in any grave danger. They were in the OR now, and afterwards they would be doing X-rays and other tests.

The rest of New Directions was not far behind. The little waiting room nearest to the OR instantly filled up. Everyone sat quietly among much fidgeting, drumming of fingers, twitchy legs, and very deep sighs. A TV above their heads was showing a muted CNN broadcasting.

Burt paced; he managed to be still for the first half hour, with his head in his hands, his wife rubbing his back comfortingly, but he eventually got up and started pacing, if only to keep himself from going to the nurse's desk and buggering her for information. Carole resorted to rubbing Finn's back, because she just needed to comfort someone. Finn looked odd, with his muddied shoes and his letterman jacket thrown over his sweaty football uniform, twirling his phone incessantly in his hands.

Blaine sat between Mercedes and Quinn, staring at the floor, Mercedes holding his hand while Quinn rubbed his shoulder. Puck jerked his knee up and down annoyingly. Every once in a while there was a loud sniff, either from Brittany or Tina.

Melrose, who had left for a few minutes, came back with two styrofoam cups with steaming contents.

"Tea, papa Burt?" she held one out toward Burt. Burt stopped pacing long enough to take it.

"Thanks, Mel," he said, taking it more out of courtesy than actually wanting to drink tea. He looked like he would upchuck if he actually tried to swallow anything, but he sat down and took a sip.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Carole smiled as Melrose handed her the other one. Melrose, uncharacteristically meek, said nothing as she sat back between Will and Quinn, and drew a very deep breath.

"You okay?" Will asked her quietly. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and didn't reply.

Blaine sighed and looked at his watch. _6:08 p.m. _They had been there almost exactly an hour, and still no news. He buried his face in his hands. His head was starting to hurt.

Finally, a doctor walked in. He wore a colorful surgical cap and had a clipboard chart in his hand.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hummel?"

"That's us," Burt and Carole sprang to their feet, almost dropping their tea. The others imitated them.

"I'm Dr. Linus," he said, and held out a hand for the couple to shake in turns. "I spoke with Mr. Schuester when they arrived. As I said, Kurt is not in any danger. We've given him a thorough examination. There was minimal internal bleeding but it's been controlled."

Those words barely comforted them. Santana looked like she was going to be sick.

"How is he now?" Burt barely managed to say, his voice hoarse.

"He's sedated; he's in the recovery ward right now, but he should be out very soon and they will put him in a room, and then you can see him."

The doctor took a deep breath and scanned the chart. "He sustained several injuries; he has a broken right radius and right ulna, so his arm is in a cast, and he has two cracked ribs, 7th and 8th, nothing too severe, but we have taped them up and he'll be given analgesics. His left thumb seems to have gotten the blunt of a fall, but it's not broken. We were able to remove all the broken glass from his wounds, and we've got him on antibiotics. We gave him five stitches on his forehead, and ten on the crown of his head, both should heal nicely without a scar. His left eye is bruised, but it's not swollen. We bandaged most of the larger cuts on his arms and torso, but they were quite numerous. We'll treat those with topical antibiotics. The bruises on his legs are not severe, so they should go away in time. He doesn't appear to have suffered a concussion, but he'll be under observation here anyway."

As he listed all these things, the faces of the people in the tiny waiting room grew more and more grave and shocked.

"Is that all?" Melrose said sarcastically.

"When can we see him?" Carole asked.

"A nurse will come get you when he's been moved to a room. If there's anything you should need, call me right away," Dr. Linus said, pulling out a card from his robe pocket and handing it to Burt. "I will come by to check on Kurt later, and to answer any of your questions." He held out a red letterman jacket. "And whose jacket is this?"

"Mine," Sam said, motioning to take it.

"Cold water and liquid soap should work to remove those blood stains," Dr. Linus said. "Now if you'll excuse me." And with that, he left.

No one knew what to say. They all just kind of stared at Sam's bloodstained jacket for a moment, then one by one they sat back down.

"I guess it could've been worse..."

"Melrose, don't, please," Burt muttered.

"Sorry."

There was a very long silence again, like they were all holding their breaths.

"Did you guys tell your parents where you are?" Melrose asked suddenly.

The kids all looked at each other, and one by one they all pulled out their cellphones and each texted their parents. There was a sudden flurry of fingers moving over tiny keyboards and luminous screens.

"Yikes, texting 'I'm in the hospital' and then hitting 'send' before further explanation is not a good idea with parents," Mike said in a really low voice, as his iPhone started trilling rather loudly with the rush of incoming messages.

Before they knew it, a short blond woman in nurse scrubs entered and greeted them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hummel?"

Again everyone stood up simultaneously. The nurse was visibly surprised by the amount of people.

"Eh, Kurt is in his room now, and he's awake, so you can come see him. But, er, I'm afraid you'll have to do it in shifts. I can only allow..." she stared around at the numerous group, "...um, five people at a time, maybe?"

Melrose grabbed Blaine's hand and quickly stood right next to Burt, Carole and Finn.

"Back off, Schuester. You got the ambulance ride, I get the room visit," she said warningly to Will.

The five of them followed the nurse down the hallway, while Will and the rest of New Directions stayed behind. The nurse led them through a set of double-doors into the ward, straight past a reception desk. Blaine's hand was trembling inside Melrose's as they approached room 206. The nurse opened the door for them and they filed into the dimly lit room.

Kurt looked small and fragile in the middle of the bed, his skin very pale under the yellowish fluorescent lighting. His hair was tousled, and his forehead was bandaged, one of his cheeks was somewhat scraped, and he had a cut on his lip. There was still some dried blood crusted around his nostrils. There was a cold compress behind his head. His left eye was purple all around. He opened his eyes slowly when they came in.

"He's still a little sedated, so he might be a bit dizzy and disoriented," the nurse said quietly.

Burt was using every ounce of strength in him to keep the tears at bay, as he stepped up to the side of the bed and looked at his son all over. There were cuts all over his arms. His right arm was in a white cast; his left thumb was bandaged. He didn't want to picture the state of his body below the covers.

Kurt swallowed hard and seemingly painfully, and looked at his father through heavy eyelids.

"Dad," he said hoarsely.

"Kurt, try not to talk. Your throat is going to be sore from the intubation," the nurse said, checking the liquids dripping slowly into Kurt through the IV in his left hand.

"Dad, please don't cry..." Kurt finished, and he swallowed again.

Burt couldn't help it anymore, and tears brimmed from his eyes and fell down his cheeks. He bent down and kissed Kurt on the top of his head, stroking his hair gently.

"You scared me so much, kid," he said between shuddering gasps.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said.

"Don't... say that... don't you be sorry..." Burt said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Carole and Melrose went around to the other side of the bed, and each gave Kurt a tearful kiss on his unharmed cheek. Finn just stood there, watching.

"Kurt, how are you feeling? Do you have any pain?" the nurse asked kindly.

Kurt didn't answer. He lifted his left hand to his face, and he carefully touched his lips, feeling the cut on his lower lip. Before he could move to the scraped cheek, Blaine's hand met his, and he intertwined their fingers. Kurt slowly turned his head to look at him.

"Hi," he whispered. Blaine made his best effort to smile at him.

"I'm glad you're still here with us," he said just as quietly. Kurt blinked tiredly at him and didn't speak, and Blaine felt so overcome with a strange sensation of loss, that he almost choked. He wanted to hug Kurt, to kiss him, hold him and take all the pain and discomfort away.

The nurse engaged Burt and Carole in conversation about the medications they would be administering for Kurt, and arrangements for one parent to stay overnight for as long as Kurt had to remain hospitalized. Finn pulled up a chair next to Kurt's bed and looked at his brother, seemingly being eaten from the inside by distress and guilt.

"Hi, Finn," Kurt said hoarsely.

"Was it Karofsky?" Finn asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

Kurt looked at him out of the corner of his blackened eye.

"I'm okay, thanks," he said sarcastically. Inside, Blaine wanted to laugh at Kurt's ability to joke even in this situation.

"Kurt, just tell me if it was him."

"Let it go, Finn, I'm... not in the mood..."

"Kurt, no talking," the nurse said, looking over at them.

"Just tell me, yes or no. That's all I wanna know," Finn asked quietly.

Kurt glanced momentarily at Melrose and Blaine. Melrose gave him an almost imperceptible shrug.

"No, it wasn't him," Kurt answered with a sigh.

"Are you sure? You're not just lying to me?"

"Why... would I lie to you?"

Blaine knew that Kurt had lied to Finn before. Heck, he was still lying to him; hiding the truth about Dave Karofsky was just like lying. But he knew why Kurt did it, and he understood, but it didn't make him feel any better. The truth would not make anyone feel better either.

Kurt wouldn't lie to him, though; he would tell him if Dave had done it. And Dave had sounded genuine back at the school grounds. Blaine knew that Dave wouldn't do it anyway; he'd never dare laying a finger on Kurt again. He'd never dream of hurting him like this.

So who had done it?

Could it be that someone else in the school had done it? Could the gossip have gotten out after all? Had this had been deliberate gay bashing?

If that was so, then why not him too?

Why Kurt?

It was too much for him. He got up, nearly tripping over the leg of the chair, and gently let go of Kurt's hand. "I'll be right back, all right?" he said quickly, and practically dashed from the room. Melrose whipped her head around in surprise.

"Finn, watch your brother and stay quiet for a few minutes, okay? Try to ease his discomfort, not make it worse," he heard her say.

As the door was about to swing shut, she pulled it open again and walked out, half a step behind Blaine. He stopped dead in his tracks and swayed on the spot.

"Blaine, are you all right?"

Blaine tried to answer, but he started hunching over, a hand grabbing at the wall for support, and he looked like he was about to keel over. The color was fading from his cheeks.

"Sit down," she said urgently, grasping his other arm to keep him from falling, and he clutched at her shoulder. His breath was coming out in ragged, wheezy gasps. "Blaine, sit here, come on." She practically had to push him down to sit against the wall, and he was pulling his shirt away from his chest, as if it would help him breathe better.

He couldn't even process what he had seen. It wasn't the shadow of the Kurt he knew; so spiritless, so subdued. It had looked terrifying back in the school grounds, seeing him bleeding and surrounded by paramedics; seeing him all bandaged up and bruised in a hospital bed was just devastating.

He hated hospitals. He hated the smells, the lights, the sounds. It was too much. He felt dizzy, trying to inhale, but it was like the air wouldn't reach his lungs.

He heard a thundering of steps coming closer. All of New Directions was suddenly there, surrounding him; they must have seen him through the glass doors as he was collapsing.

"Relax, just relax," Melrose said gently, kneeling beside him. "It's going to be okay."

"I can't-" _gasp_ "I-" _gasp_ "uh, I'm, I can't breathe-" _wheeze_.

"Blaine, calm down. Try to calm down," she said, her voice steady.

"Is he having an asthma attack or something?" Puck asked nervously.

"No, he's just hyperventilating. I need a bag or something," she replied.

"Can we have a paper bag over here, please?" Will leaned over the nurse's station counter, and two of the nurses nodded.

"Here," one of them said, running around the counter. She held out a white paper bag.

"Breathe into this, put it over you mouth and nose," Melrose grabbed the bag and opened it, forcing Blaine to take it and do as she instructed. "Just breathe in and out, and try to relax," she said soothingly.

Everyone watched him quietly as he pressed the bag over his face, heart still racing, the only sound among the group being the crinkling of the paper bag with each intake of air. He did this for a whole minute, and soon enough his vision stopped clouding over. He looked around at the concerned faces, and they were no longer blurred.

"Feel better?" Will asked. Blaine's breathing slowed down a bit, and he nodded. Unable to contain himself, he started crying quietly and crumpled the bag in his hands.

"Shh, it's okay, Blaine," Melrose pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back.

"No, it's not," he mumbled into her shoulder, shaking with sobs.

"He's going to be fine," she said, wiping a tear behind his back.

"I should've been there."

"You can't always be there," Puck said, his voice uncharacteristically deep. "Don't beat yourself up over it."

Blaine fell silent, leaning heavily against Melrose, who continued to rub her back.

"The police are on the case. They're going to catch whoever did it. And Kurt is going to get well," Santana said, kneeling beside them. Tina produced a packet of tissues and offered them to Melrose.

"Would you like me to examine him?" the stern-looking nurse asked.

"No, it's okay. He's fine now," Will said, gesturing to Blaine. The nurse nodded and smiled.

"Then could you get back to the waiting area? I have patients in the other rooms."

"We're sorry," Mercedes said, as they all motioned to go back to the waiting area. "Bitch," she added under her breath, and Rachel chuckled.

Melrose, Blaine and Santana stayed behind, leaning against the wall.

"That was a scary two minutes. I thought you were going to have a fit," Santana said.

"Yeah, don't do this to us. I've had enough for one day, thanks," Melrose added, offering him a tissue.

"I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life," Blaine said almost inaudibly, wiping at his face.

"Don't worry, neither have I," Melrose replied.

"Didn't you—" Santana started, but she cut herself off.

"What?" he asked.

"Didn't you tell me that you once got beaten up too?"

Blaine closed his eyes, as if trying to shut away a bad memory. "I didn't end up in the hospital. I didn't look like _that_. I was bruised and sore and I felt horrible and weak, but I didn't look like I was within an inch of my life."

"He doesn't look that bad," Melrose said half-heartedly, trying to smile. "He's stronger than you think."

Blaine just shook his head. This was nothing like the time he and his friend got beaten up at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Not like having his car spray-painted; nor getting elected prom queen as a joke; nor slushied; nor slammed against lockers. This was a true crime. This was the most terrifying thing he had experienced so far; the boy he cared for so much had nearly been ripped away from him.

"Are you okay now?" Santana asked, rubbing his arm comfortingly.

It took him a moment to answer. He felt a little weak and lightheaded, but he nodded slowly.

"Come on, we should get back in there," Melrose said gently, standing up and holding out a hand to help Blaine up. Santana did the same. Blaine looked up at them momentarily, before reaching for their hands and letting them pull him up to his feet. Santana walked back toward the waiting room, and Melrose squeezed Blaine's shoulder reassuringly before leading him back inside.

* * *

><p>It wasn't very long until Burt came out of the room, still looking very grim, and walked down the hallway to the waiting area. The Glee kids and Will sat around sharing snacks and beverages from the vending machines, and Burt leaned against the doorframe and watched them.<p>

"How's Kurt?" Will asked. The kids stopped eating when they noticed Burt standing there.

"Fighting against sleep. I told him you kids were here, so he's been struggling to stay awake."

"So we can see him?" Mercedes asked hopefully.

"Sure, go on now. I'm gonna go talk to the nurses," Burt said after a few minutes.

"I don't think they're gonna let us all in, Mr. Hummel," Will said. "It's probably way past their visiting hours, and there's a lot of us. We don't want to disturb. We can come back tomorrow. Kurt should rest."

Brittany started fidgeting like she wanted to protest; Mercedes's eyebrows became tightly knit, and Sam and Quinn exchanged looks of resignation.

"I'll distract the nurses. I've got a lot of paperwork to fill out," Burt said, and he headed back.

The kids left their snacks and bags, and got up obediently. Will reluctantly imitated them.

In shifts, the kids paired up and walked swiftly but casually past the nurses' desk, where Burt was keeping them occupied. The last ones to make it were Will and Artie; the teacher casually pushed his student down the hallway and knocked gently on the door before walking in.

All the kids stood around as still and as quietly as possible. In the far corner, Finn was oddly splayed on one end of the couch, head leaning back over the headrest, as if he might fall asleep at any moment. Carole sat tensely next to him, scribbling furiously on a tiny notepad, probably making a list of things she needed to bring for Kurt. Melrose sat at the other end, looking like she had a headache.

Kurt seemed to be asleep, Blaine sitting next to him, with his head on the edge of the mattress, a hand clasping Kurt's uninjured one, and resting their joined hands over his chest. Brittany sidled up next to Blaine, sitting on the arm of the chair, and started stroking his hair soothingly.

Will felt a lump rise again in his throat at the sight of the battered boy. He'd been unable to tear his eyes away from Kurt's bloodied face during the whole ambulance ride, staring in shock and disbelief.

After all this time, after all the struggle, the parent-teacher meetings, the expelling, the transfer, Kurt still had not been able to get away unharmed. It made Will feel useless and pathetic.

When he actually thought about it, this was all his fault.

He told Kurt to go see how the football practice was going.

"We should come back tomorrow, when he's awake," Will said lowly. Carole looked up and nodded.

"I guess. He's still very sedated, so I don't think he's waking up again for tonight," she replied, glancing at the bed. "I'm sorry, but I have to get home soon. I'm just making a list of what I need to pack for Kurt, he'll have to stay hospitalized at least for a week, while his ribs heal a bit."

"A week?" Quinn asked, looking alarmed.

"I'm afraid so."

"What about practicing for Sectionals?" Rachel asked, outraged.

Santana and Mike slapped their foreheads.

"Okay, then _you_ tell Kurt he has to dance and sing with two broken ribs. I'm sure he won't mind," Puck said. "Could you not bring up Sectionals at a moment like this?" he added in annoyance.

"I can't help it. It's... it's gonna be awful without him, _again_," Rachel retorted.

"Rachel, if it's not too much trouble, could you not remind our friend, who is going through a lot right now, that he's _letting you down_ by missing out on a competition to which he was really looking forward?" Mercedes said.

Rachel fell silent. Kurt stirred and mumbled something, bleary eyes staring around.

"Did he say something?" Sam asked.

"He said 'I'm not really asleep, I can hear everything you guys are talking about," Blaine answered.

They all stared back at Kurt in relief, surprise and sadness, before his eyes drooped again and he blinked them close.

"Great. Thanks, Rach," Puck scowled. Rachel lowered her eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that. You know what I mean. I wish Karofsky would stop sabotaging him," Rachel said as quietly as she could, so Kurt couldn't hear.

"Karofsky said it wasn't him, that it was two guys," Tina said, also very quietly.

"And you believe him?" Puck asked. Tina bit her lip and shook her head hesitantly. The kids were kind of huddled in one corner now, hoping that Kurt could not hear them at all anymore. Santana, however, went to stand next to Brittany; she seemed surprisingly not in the mood to argue with anyone.

"He's a scumbag, that's as much as we should know by now. He's got a vendetta against Kurt, and for all we know, he could've made that story up for the police," Puck continued.

"The only one that knows the truth is Kurt. We won't know until the police have interrogated him," Quinn pointed out.

"Are you defending him? You're defending Karofsky? Really?"

"No! I know he's always been a threat to Kurt, but we don't know for sure if it was him this time," Quinn responded.

"What if Karofsky threatened Kurt to keep him from telling the truth, and Kurt just has to go along with whatever story Karofsky makes up?" Artie said. "He threatened to kill him once, he could just do it again."

"But Kurt could just tell the truth and Karofsky would just be expelled again, anyway, and this time for good, because Kurt's got the bruises to prove it. Lots of them," Tina replied. "In fact, if the police is already involved, Karofsky could be sent to juvie."

"For all we know, he might be there already," Mike pointed out.

"I don't know," Mercedes piped in. "Why did he ask Melrose and Blaine if they believed him?"

"To me it sounded like he was groping about in the dark and that's all," Rachel said.

"But Melrose said she did believe him," Mercedes said.

"She's a teacher. She can't take sides," Lauren put in.

"She's Melrose. She doesn't give a damn about that. She cares about Kurt," Mercedes countered. "And Kurt just got the crap beat out of him, and the only one at the scene, as far as we know, was Karofsky. So why would she instantly believe him?"

"I don't know," Quinn said. "I don't think we can know for sure until Kurt has given his version."

"Could Karofsky be really that careless? I mean, if he was going to beat up Kurt, why risk doing it on school grounds where he could get caught? Where everyone knows he's been trying to do him in for a while?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, why would he apologize for what he did to Kurt last year and help bring him back to McKinley, if he still hated him enough to beat him up like that?" Sam said.

"Maybe he didn't think he'd get caught? No one ever uses that alley behind the cafeteria," Artie offered.

"Then why did he call for help?" Sam added. "Someone would've found Kurt eventually. I mean, we would've gone looking for him when we realized he had gone missing."

"Maybe he realized he got carried away," Puck said. "And that's when he made up the story of the two other guys."

"I don't know. We're speculating too much, and all I really want is for Kurt to tell us what really happened; right now we're just grasping at straws," Tina said. "Besides, I don't think Karofsky is really that clever to come up with a story like this and think it's really gonna stick."

"Yeah, this is starting to sound like a really bad episode of CSI," Lauren agreed.

"Whatever. I'd still like to beat the truth out of Karofsky," Puck said.

"And what good is that gonna do?" Rachel said. " You get sent to juvie, and then we'll be short of two people for Sectionals."

"Would you stop with Sectionals?" Puck retorted, nostrils flaring.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I really wanted all of us to be together again at Sectionals. I think it could've been awesome."

"What I really want is for Karofsky to break down and tell the truth," Sam said.

"I really just want to give him a taste of his own fist," Puck added.

"Don't you mean 'a taste of his own medicine'?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah, but with his own fist."

"You know what I really want?" Mercedes started, eyes watering. "I want Kurt to get better. Soon. I just can't stand seeing him like this," she said, sniffing and looking at her best friend on the bed. "It's not fair." She wiped a tear from her cheek and walked over to Kurt's bedside.

The others fell silent. Yeah, they all wanted that too. But what they all really wanted was for this to never have happened at all.

* * *

><p>Burt came back to the room some twenty minutes later, and unfortunately a nurse came with him. She ushered all the kids out of the room, and Kurt couldn't wake up long enough to say goodbye. They all made plans to visit the next day; fortunately it was a Saturday, and they could stay for as long as they wanted, and hopefully Kurt would be fully conscious then.<p>

Artie drove back to school to drop off those who had left their cars in the parking lot. The rest called their parents to pick them up. Blaine wanted to stay for as long as they would let him, and Melrose promised to drive him home afterwards. His parents were still out of town until Sunday.

Carole drove Finn home, to drop him off and pack up Kurt's things from the list, as well as an overnight bag for Burt, who would stay in the hospital the first night.

Will stayed until all the kids had left. He stepped into the hallway to call Shannon and find out how everything had gone with the police and Karofsky – he had meant to do it sooner, but it had slipped out of his mind-, and to call Emma to see if she could pick him up and drive him to get his car from the school parking lot, or just drive him home. He really needed to see her, to talk to her. She probably had no idea what had happened.

As he looked up Shannon's number in his cellphone, he spotted Melrose sitting back in the waiting room, hugging her legs to her chest, gaze lost in the distance. She had said she would get them Cokes, but she hadn't come back after 20 minutes.

"Melrose?" he asked, approaching tentatively.

Melrose was lost in thought, so much that she didn't notice him there until he motioned to sit next to her. Her eyes were wet.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring you your beverage," she said, gesturing to the two cans of Coke beside her on a corner table. One of them was already open.

"It's okay."

"I needed to sit."

"I understand."

"It's pretty overwhelming in there."

"He's going to be fine, Mel."

She paused and glanced at him with a strange smile. "You called me Mel."

Will didn't reply. They sat there silently for what felt like minutes. He opened his can and took a swig.

"Did I ever tell you about my parents?"

He turned slowly to her, curiously. "You said they basically ignored you. And then you left and never spoke to them again," he answered.

"Did I mention that my dad apparently died a little over a year ago?"

His eyebrows raised involuntarily. She didn't see that, she was still looking straight ahead.

"And I only found out a few months ago, when I arrived here. I called the last place I knew he lived, his girlfriend told me he had a stroke. He smoked twice as much as I do."

Will felt a strange sinking in his chest. He didn't know what to say or do when she had just told him that. What do you say to someone who just told you something like that?

"And when I found out, I felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing. I really didn't care about him. Just like he never cared about me," she made a sound like a snort. "I guess it makes sense. He was never my family."

She leaned back slowly, hands curled up on her lap. "Kurt is. He and Burt, they're the only real family I've ever had."

Will nodded, willing her to go on. This was another chance in which Melrose was actually opening herself to him, to anyone. She looked down at her hands, and her voice grew thicker.

"When Burt had the stroke, I tried everything to get here, everything short of hopping onto a plane as a stowaway. But I had no money, no one to borrow money from, nothing. So all that I could do was sit and wait for news from Kurt."

She sniffed. "I felt so ashamed, that I couldn't even show my face at the wedding. I think they understood my situation, but I just know they don't see me as family anymore. Maybe that's just a one way perception; maybe it always has been."

Melrose took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I mean they've always had each other. Not to mention a family; they have grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, and now even a new wife and step-brother." She breathed heavily. "I have no one," she added slowly, as if the weight of the words was just hitting her.

"Melrose..." Will started feebly, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"The mere idea of losing Kurt... the reality of seeing him so fragile and torn, I've never felt so terrified in my life," she said in a trembling voice. "I may not be essential to their survival, but... they're essential to mine."

"I _need_ them. If they disappear..." her voice broke for a moment, and a tear spilled from her eye, "the only thing I'll be left with is a fading memory of tea parties in the garden with indian headdresses and sparklers."

Will was shocked. He was pretty sure he had never seen Melrose cry. He didn't even think she ever wanted anyone to see her cry, especially not him.

"You should tell them that. Tell Burt and Kurt how you feel," he suggested half-heartedly, because he was confused as to what to say.

"They have a lot on their plate, they don't need to hear this now," she said almost angrily, wiping another tear eye as it made its way to her chin.

"Why not? You want a family. Everyone wants a family."

"For me to have a family now would imply making one myself. I don't know how to do that," she shook her head, as if shaking off a disturbing thought. "I know it sounds so selfish to think this way, but I'm not ready to be on my own. I thought I was, but that was because I just didn't have a choice."

He thought for a moment, staring at her in wonder and appreciation.

"You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said in all honesty.

She shook her head again, in disagreement. "I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Then why did I leave Paris?"

More tears came. Hot tears of anger. Will hesitated.

"I don't know. You haven't told me."

Impulsively, she stood up and paced a little impatiently around, before stopping in front of him.

"It's because I'm scared of facing the truth. Of realizing that I am, after all, the biggest screw up ever. I'm not good enough for anything, I don't even know what the hell I want for myself. I pretend that I do, but I have no idea," she spat, not caring that a nurse was glaring at her from the other side of the glass windows because she was raising her voice.

"What am I doing here, Will? I'm twenty-two and I'm teaching French in the very same small town from which I was trying to run away. I just... I keep running away."

He wasn't sure if she was expecting an answer, whether he should answer at all or not. But he felt like stating the obvious, in case Melrose really had no idea.

"You're just looking for somewhere to belong. Everyone is," he said.

This time she chuckled and shook her head again.

"I get the feeling I just don't belong anywhere. Sometimes I feel I try hard to fit in, but it's pointless."

He stared at her for the longest time, as she willed herself to regain composure. She breathed in and out slowly, as if she did it all the time. Melrose never struck him as the kind of person who breathed carefully or counted to ten; she always seemed to explode like a firework, and then not even care about burning anyone. Maybe, just maybe, she was really trying to grow.

"You should go get some rest," he said gently.

"I have to take Blaine to his house," she replied, her voice back to normal.

"I could do that for you," he offered.

"Thanks, but no. I'm fine," she said, drinking the last of the Coke that she had purchased for herself,a and dunking it into the nearest trash can as she headed out. She stopped just outside the door and turned, as if she had just remembered something. "How are you getting home, anyway? You got her via ambulance."

Will smiled to himself at her sudden bout of concern. "I was actually going to call Emma," he answered. Melrose nodded in understanding.

"Okay, I was gonna offer you a ride, too, but this is better."

"Go home, Melrose," he said with a small laugh. Her face darkened, her gaze falling to the floor.

"I don't have a home," she replied, mostly to herself, turning again and walking toward room 206.

* * *

><p>She and Blaine waited for Carole to come back, so that Burt wouldn't have to stay up waiting for her all alone. They sat in the cold hospital room, barely talking, while Kurt was given more medication, including painkillers and mild sedatives that kept him unconscious. They hadn't even been able to ask him how he was feeling, if he had any pain.<p>

Burt asked Melrose if she wouldn't rather go to his house and sleep in Kurt's bed. Melrose barely had to think about it before answering with a rotund 'no'. She had never slept in Kurt's bed without Kurt actually being there with her, and she wasn't about to start now. Especially knowing where he was spending the night instead.

She went back to her flat much later that night, after taking Blaine to his house. She dreaded the idea of him being all alone in that big house, but she could barely muster the energy to ask him if he'd rather sleep on her couch. She knew he'd say no, anyway. He hugged her briefly but strongly as he was getting out of her car, and she felt a cold sting in her chest as she watched him open the front door and disappear inside.

Melrose unlocked her front door and stepped silently into her dark apartment. There was a puddle of water near the couch; Jack had gotten loose and knocked over the flower vase again. Half of the flower stems were gone. She grabbed the rabbit and put him back in his pen. She then poured herself a glass of water, drank it whole in a few big gulps, and made her way blindly to her bed.

It was rather early for a friday night, but she had nothing to do and nowhere to be. She had too much stuff floating around her mind in an endless loop.

Without taking off her clothes or shoes, without wiping off her makeup or brushing her teeth, she belly-flopped onto the duvet, pulled a pillow between her arms, and wept into it until she fell asleep, exhausted and overwhelmed.

* * *

><p>Dave jerked awake, shivering.<p>

He looked around his dark room and clutched at his thumping chest. A trembling sigh escaped his lips as he realized he had been dreaming.

No, that wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. He was glad he woke up.

He sat up in bed and tried not to think about what he had seen. He shoved the blankets off, nearly knocking over the bedside lamp.

In the dream, he saw Kurt beside him, like he always did. He thought, in his reverie, of how strange and inappropriate it was for his subconscious to still lead him down that path, considering the situation. But when he looked again, he was no longer in his room, and Kurt wasn't lying in his bed.

They were back in the alley, and Kurt was flat on the ground in front of him, lifeless, blackened blue eyes staring blankly up a the sky.

There was blood on the grass; there was glass everywhere, but Dave didn't care. He could almost feel the glass cutting through his jeans into his skin as he knelt down beside Kurt. He knew there was no point; but still something in him clung to a false hope, and his arms grasped the dead boy's shoulders, shaking him vigorously, desperately.

He woke up with a start when he realized he was shouting.

He sat still in bed, listening intently. He didn't know how loud he might have shouted, but he was half-expecting one or both his parents to come check on him, to burst through the door.

Dave barely registered that, for the first time in his life since he was a little kid, he had woken up with tears on his face. He used the corner of his sheets to wipe his face and sighed.

Why did he have to think this way? Why was his subconscious torturing him like this?

Kurt was going to be fine.

Dave had unknowingly arrived just in time, before anything like his dream could actually happen.

But what if he hadn't?

He waited until his heart stopped racing, to lay back down on his pillow and try to think of something else. Anything to erase the image of the blank eyes. It took him hours to go back to a restless, fitful sleep.

* * *

><p>I<em> honestly don't know why this chapter took me so long to publish. It was practically all written since I began this fic. Oh well..<em>

_I just hope I got all the medical stuff right. I have an uncle and a friend who are doctors and hopefully they gave me the right information. But translating some terminology to English can be tricky._

_I can tell you, from personal experience, broken ribs are a real bitch. So are broken arms. And broken legs._

_I need to be more careful._

_-love, Valentina._


	14. Chapter 14

_This was rather depressing to write, to be honest._

_But I promise, next chapter gets better. _

_Disclaimer: Glee belongs to FOX, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, and the writers. I only own Melrose._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

Kurt wasn't in shock.

He remembered too much and was too aware of his current state. He was calm and eloquent and obliging while a detective and one of the police officers from the previous night interrogated him.

Kurt's droning voice had more to do with the amount of analgesics coursing through his veins; he felt like he was completely stoned.

It was also too early, in Kurt's opinion. It was Saturday morning, and he was tired and cranky after a rough first night at the hospital. The nurses barged into the room almost every hour during the night, to check his temperature, take his blood pressure, change his ice packs, give him more drugs. In spite of the painkillers, he was still in a lot of pain; arguably more than what he felt while being manhandled by the two gorillas. It hurt to breathe, blink and swallow.

To make matters worse, his father snored like a cement mixer.

He tried not to sound completely ill-humored; maybe he managed to sound just vaguely annoyed, at best.

Finn looked a little worse for wear than the day before. It had taken him hours to go to bed after he and his mom had gotten home; he thought a hot shower would relieve his tension and help him sleep better. However, he spent the whole night tossing in bed, hoping that he had dreamed the whole thing.

But even then, he had asked to stay during the interrogation. He wanted to know what the guy (or guys) looked like, needed to know if it was someone they already knew.

But he was visibly having trouble listening to Kurt retelling the gruesome events; he looked like he wanted to cry and break something.

"...shoved me face-first against the window, and I had glass stuck to my forehead," Kurt was only getting started. His eyes were fighting to stay focused on the detective asking the questions.

Burt was squeezing his fists on his knees until the knuckles turned white. At least Finn wasn't the only one having trouble. Carole seemed calm, like she had prepared for this. Melrose stood in a corner, looking out the window, fighting the urge to leave to have a smoke outside.

The detective, Owens, seemed oddly sympathetic, a strong contrast to his hard features. He recorded the statement while the officer took notes.

"You said the blond one's name was Jacob?" he asked.

"His friend called him Jacob," Kurt answered.

"What else happened? Try to remember."

That was not a problem. Kurt remembered everything quite clearly in retrospect; at the moment he might have gotten dizzy and disoriented, but his need to be able to recall later what had happened had made him strangely alert, and in his fear and desperation, he felt like he had seen things as if from another perspective. Like an out-of-body experience.

* * *

><p><em>He remembered squeezing his eyes shut and grinding his teeth, and heard a thunder as his head collided with the window. He had never heard the sound of breaking glass as neatly as he did then; he could actually hear the smooth cool surface cracking right in his ear.<em>

_As the glass rained around him, the guy forced him around. Kurt saw the bleeding nose, felt the hot breath in his face, and the pale blue eyes threatening to come out of their sockets. _

_The guy didn't seem to be trying to hold back at all. He lifted Kurt off his feet and threw him to the ground, head first. Kurt managed to outstretch his hands to avoid smacking his face on the cement; he landed roughly onto his right arm, felt a crack and a split, and a blinding pain extending all the way up to his shoulder and neck, and a stinging pain as glass shards pierced his skin. He choked back a scream. _

"_How do you like that, huh? Faggot!" Jacob was saying, sputtering blood. Kurt groaned, and tried to get up with a useless left arm._

"_Where do you think you're going?" There was a swift kick on his side. He lost his balance and fell onto his stomach. He felt more glass cutting into his clothes and skin. Hands grabbed his ankles roughly and dragged him off the cement floor and onto the grass. The cement scraped his cheek and elbows, and then there was soft grass beneath him. The same hands flipped him over onto his back, and a heavy figure sat on his stomach, and he barely distinguished the pale face of the blond boy, still distorted by rage, when a fist came down onto his face, and he felt his lip split on his tooth and he tasted blood. The blond boy wiped at his nose again with his other hand, before delivering another blow to the side of his face. Kurt felt that side go numb, and he almost choked on the blood in his nose. He thought he might really faint this time._

"_Come on, Jacob, let's go. Someone might come around," the dark-skinned boy was saying now, and Kurt noticed he was trying to pull Jacob off of him. Then Kurt felt something hard against the back of his head; there might have been a rock there. Jacob had noticed it too, and before he got up, snarling and panting angrily, he grabbed Kurt by the hair once more and smashed his head hard down over the rock. There was a white-hot flash before his eyes as the sharp pain registered in his already waning consciousness, and he felt the need to throw up. No sound came out of his mouth, just an instinctive jerk as his hands tried to reach back to hold the sore spot. He then felt the wind being knocked out of him and another sharp pain around his stomach._

_The two boys seemed to be arguing now, Kurt wasn't really sure because he felt he could no longer understand words; he could barely distinguish shapes now. His eyes closed, trying in vain to shut it all out, the pain, the dizziness, the wave of nausea. They were kicking and stomping at him, his torso and legs, and he doubled over, in an attempt to shield himself. He felt two very sharp cracks, the resulting pain both blinding and deafening. There might have been a third one, but he wasn't sure._

_Then the thundering of feet stopped, and so did the voices. But the pain didn't._

_At that moment, he was more convinced than ever that there wasn't a God. _

_As he stared up at the graying sky, willing himself to become numb, he had never felt more alone in the universe._

* * *

><p><em>It felt like endless minutes had gone by before he managed to open his eyes, and realize that he was still in fact very conscious. Slowly the pain all over his body became more and more vivid. <em>

_There was someone nearby. A different voice and shape, but Kurt couldn't tell who it was. Everything in front of his eyes was swaying and spinning. He tasted blood deep in his throat. He felt his battered lungs refusing to take much air in. _

_He heard his name, over and over. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He strained to focus his eyes; a face became clearer in front of his eyes._

"_D... you," he tried to speak, but the blood gurgled to his mouth and made it difficult to talk. _

_Dave Karofsky was talking to him very fast and high, but Kurt couldn't understand him. All he could think of was the hope that someone would show up to make his pain go away. _

_Karofsky's face barely registered in his mind, because it brought him no comfort. But Sam's face did. Sam suddenly hovered over him, serious and concerned, and somehow Kurt knew everything would be all right. There was a confusion of voices all around, but Sam's voice was perfectly clear. Kurt wanted to answer him, but there was still blood in his throat and he wanted nothing more than to pass out. But Sam kept him awake. He knew it was for a good reason; Sam was his friend, he wouldn't torture him for no good reason. Help is on the way, he thought he heard someone say. But seconds stretched into minutes and the pain grew more intense, and he suddenly wanted to scream and die. _

_There was a swarm of people, moving him, gripping, stretching, lifting, and drilling him with questions he could not fully understand. There were sirens and intense lights and a lot of jerking from side to side, and Mr. Schue's voice far, far away. Then fluorescent lights passing by like a train on a track, and many voices again. Something pierced the skin on the back of his hand, and figures in green and blue scrubs and matching face masks and surgeon caps and thick glasses floated above him, and he had the ridiculous idea that he might've been in an episode of "Grey's Anatomy". A large white light seared his eyes for a moment, but by then he finally felt his mind succumbing to blissful calm and obliviousness. _

_He suddenly thought of Blaine, wondering when he might get to see him again, just for a second before the darkness engulfed him._

* * *

><p>"So you were awake and fully aware the whole time?"<p>

Kurt tried not to look at his father or brother or step-mother as he through of how to answer.

"Unfortunately," he said honestly and bitterly. "It didn't hurt so much at first because of the adrenaline rush, but after my ribs cracked, I really thought I was going to faint. And I _didn't_."

There was a silence as the officer wrote everything down, and Kurt watched them for signs that he should go on.

"I should've just stood still or faked a seizure or something; I shouldn't have said anything, and I certainly shouldn't have punched them. And they kept kicking me because I kept trying to get up."

"Stop it," Burt said, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Whatever you said or did, they would've still hurt you. But I guess it could've been so much worse," he added, his voice strained.

"Unfortunately, yes. It sounds klike these boys wanted to be provoked," detective Owens said.

Finn, who looked revolted, suddenly sat up. "Wait, you punched them?"

"Yeah," Kurt answered rather sheepishly.

"You... punched them?"

"I believe he already said he did, Mr. Hudson," Detective Owens said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I did. Melrose taught me some self-defense," Kurt said flatly.

Melrose turned suddenly and frowned in disbelief, just as everyone in the room turned to her.

"Oh my god, Kurt, you didn't," she exclaimed.

"I did that uppercut thing you taught us. And the knee in the stomach, and the elbow. I gave him a bloody nose," Kurt said, but he looked a bit embarrassed. "I guess it wasn't very effective."

"Shit, Kurt, really?" Melrose said, her wide in horror, as her hands flew to her mouth in a very Brittany-like gesture.

"Language, Mel," Burt scolded her.

"I'm sorry, but... I don't know if that was gutsy or just stupid."

"What? So you taught us those things so we would never use them?" Kurt asked, annoyed.

"Not against _two_ guys! Use your head! You could've been killed!"

"Thanks, I'm aware of that."

"You said you punched both?" Detective Owens asked.

"Uh, I gave the other one an uppercut to the jaw. I nearly knocked him backwards, but not quite," Kurt said defeatedly.

"Whoa, man, I didn't know you had it in you..." Finn said, appreciatively.

"So you gave the one named Jacob a bloody nose?" Detective Owens asked.

"Yeah," Kurt replied.

"And the other one might have a bruised jaw."

"I guess."

"Well, along with the physical descriptions you gave us, and the name, and the fact that they're on a football team, that should narrow it down," the detective said, glancing at the officer, who finished taking notes. "Anything else I should know?"

Kurt thought for a moment, painfully going over the whole thing again in his head.

"The blond one might be left handed."

One of the detective's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "How do you know?"

"When he slammed me against the wall, he threatened me with his left fist, while he kept me pinned to the wall with his right hand. Otherwise I couldn't have punched him, because I wouldn't have been able to move my right arm."

Detective Owens and the officer gave him appreciative nods. "I have to say I'm impressed with your detailed account and the way you reacted, and I'm really very sorry that you've found yourself in this situation," Owens said. Kurt just nodded.

The detective and the police officer spent another ten minutes to questioning Finn and Melrose about what happened afterwards. Finn's statement was a little confusing -like everything that had to do with Finn-, but it pained Kurt to see how affected he was by the whole thing. Melrose gave a more concise account; after all, she hadn't seen anything that the police didn't already know.

"I promise you, Kurt, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel, that we will do everything in our power to find the attackers. Thank you for all your cooperation," he added, motioning to leave.

"Thank you so much for all your help," Burt said, getting up and shaking the detective's hand.

"Not a problem. I know how these things are," the detective now stood near the door, and he lowered his voice. Maybe he didn't want Kurt to hear. "My sister is no stranger to this kind of threats."

Kurt wondered if it was just a coincidence that this detective was assigned to his case.

After Detective Owens and the officer left, a psychotherapist, Dr. Shea, was supposed to talk to them about the events and so they could ask him any questions. Apparently, for situations like this, the insurance company always offered psychological help and counseling, especially for the victim, in the case that post traumatic stress disorder should present itself.

_The victim_. Kurt had sort of liked the man, until he referred to him as that.

Kurt suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore. He excused himself, saying he was tired and the painkillers were making him drowsy again, and he pretended to go to sleep. He wished he had been more adamant about wanting peace and quiet; all they did was lower their voices, and Kurt could still hear everything they were saying: how to deal with Kurt. How to get him to open up about all these feelings he was sure to have now.

They had no idea what he was feeling.

Finn left, with the excuse of going to pick up Rachel and then come back. Melrose sat beside Kurt and pretended to read a magazine.

"You're not really asleep, are you, Fluffy?" she whispered.

Kurt felt bad for ignoring her, but he couldn't bring himself to reply; he had to keep the mime up. And for some reason it pained him to hear that nickname again.

When he didn't stir, Melrose simply got up without a word and left the room, giving no indication that she was coming back for the day.

* * *

><p>"Cast-doodling time! Yay!" Brittany exclaimed, dropping the contents of a sparkly blue pencil case she brought onto the bed. About 50 colored markers and sharpies landed on top of Kurt's blankets.<p>

It was two in the afternoon, at the restart of visiting hours, and the members of New Directions had managed to sneak past the nurses' desk and go into Kurt's room all at once without getting caught. Finn, Blaine and Rachel were already there: Burt and Carole went to eat lunch at the cafeteria.

"Can I have purple? It's my signature color," Mercedes said, hogging all the purple colored sharpies.

Everyone took turns writing and doodling on Kurt's arm cast, while Kurt ate gummy worms that Tina had brought (and that he probably shouldn't be eating) and attempted to watch a rerun of _The Vampire Diaries_ without falling asleep.

"Dibs on the wrist!" Mike said.

"Do you mind if I put one of my star stickers next to my signature? It's my thing," Rachel asked.

"Puck, is that a band quote? It's Kurt's arm, idiot, not a yearbook," Quinn pointed out.

"It's a great quote, so shut up."

"You're taking up a lot of space!"

"Kurt likes it, don't you, Kurt?"

Kurt barely shrugged. He knew his friends were just trying to cheer him up. He actually just wanted to be alone, but he didn't have the heart to ask them to leave.

Blaine clambered up onto the bed beside him, with the excuse to doodle on his cast, only he didn't leave his spot when he was done. He was careful to avoid touching Kurt at all, lest he would hurt him more than he already was.

"Awww, 'Blaine hearts Kurt'. You guys give me a toothache," Lauren said, reading what Blaine had written in blue. Kurt saw it and blushed, but not as brightly as Blaine.

"If we run out of space, I can doodle on your rib tapes," Santana said, holding up all her red markers.

"You're not doodling on my belly."

"It was just a suggestion."

"So how are you feeling?" Tina asked.

Kurt shrugged again. "Like shit."

They all exchanged glances; Kurt rarely cursed, so it took them all by surprise. Kurt pretended not to notice. He grabbed another gummy worm, but suddenly he didn't feel like eating them anymore.

"Don't worry, dude. I've had my share of broken bones. I play football and I once started my own Fight Club," Puck said. "I know what it's like."

"Thanks, Puck, but I'm pretty sure no one's ever tried to beat you to death, so I don't think you know."

Another massive exchange of glances. Kurt tried not to roll his eyes.

"What exactly happened, Kurt?" Quinn asked, as if she had been holding the question in for as long as she could.

Finn made a gesture, like he didn't really want to hear it all over again, and it seemed he was stopping himself from saying something.

"I already told the police everything," Kurt answered simply.

"Did they take samples and stuff from under your nails?" Brittany asked while she drew a cat near Kurt's elbow. "In _CSI_, the detectives look for skin or hair on the victim's clothes and body."

Kurt missed the opportunity to make a joke about the fact that Brittany watched CSI because he didn't want to hurt the blonde's feelings. "Well, considering _CSI_ generally deals with victims that are dead, I'd rather you not bring it up," he merely said. He could see them all tense up.

"Sorry," Brittany said sheepishly, and finished coloring her cat.

"Look, Kurt, we just... we wanted to know what happened, because we care," Quinn said gently. "We're your friends, and we're here to support you in any way we can."

"I know you do; I'm not questioning that. I just," Kurt sighed. "This may surprise you, but I really don't feel like talking about it."

He felt Blaine's hand sneaking into his left hand, and that gesture alone would've usually made his heart leap for no apparent reason. But right now, he still felt a little numb and a little weak, and he didn't want to do or say anything that might make his friends go away, but he almost couldn't manage.

"Look, you guys, I really don't feel well, so if you're gonna stay here, could you please change the subject? Please take my mind off the things that got me here in the first place. Talk about whatever you want except _that_. And Rachel, if you mention Sectionals, I swear I will find a way to get up from this bed and strangle you with all these tubes coming out of me."

Rachel's eyes went comically wide. No one said a word.

"Well, if I may say so, you look kind of badass right now," Santana said suddenly.

Kurt gave her a look, as did everyone else. "What? He does."

"Santana, shut up," Sam whispered.

There was meaningless banter after that. Puck decided that, as soon as Kurt was better, they had to throw him a party in Melrose's apartment to celebrate it -whether Melrose liked it or not, but it was unlikely that she would object-. They talked about that for a while, and Kurt followed vaguely. He really wished he felt at ease with his friends. He didn't feel at ease with anyone right now.

* * *

><p>Everyone Kurt possibly knew visited him or sent him something during the weekend. It didn't cheer him up as he hoped, because the fact was that word had gotten around. Plus, he looked and felt awful.<p>

How much did people know about what had happened? What had his father told the family?

He hated large amounts of sympathy. Instead of making him feel better, to have all these people coming to show their support; it only made him feel more miserable and pathetic.

He got a big flower arrangement from his grandmother, and a big balloon arrangement from his aunt Jem; his neighbor, Lucy, who wanted to be a chef, sent him cupcakes that she made and decorated by herself, which were promptly devoured by the New Directions.

Emma Pillsbury visited with Will, and brought him sugar-free candy. Even Sue Sylvester came by; she brought him a large container of protein shake and a book of "Boxing for dummies", which in itself was a much more touching gesture than what Sue probably intended.

Some of his uncles and cousins, who hadn't been to Lima since the wedding, made the trip from various neighboring states. They talked about plans for the holidays, and Kurt wished they wouldn't.

All he could think of was New Year's Eve and New York. He realized he hadn't even told his father about it, and now he was afraid to bring it up.

He was mainly afraid that, after _this_, his father would oppose to it; he already thought that Kurt liked to stir the pot and attract attention to himself, or that he didn't think about the consequences of his actions. Burt would hardly believe that Kurt and Blaine going to New York alone would not be any more dangerous than them innocently holding hands in Lima.

And the truth was that Kurt himself wasn't so sure anymore. What if it was just the same? What if something happened to them? New York wasn't a safe haven, it was merely a place where people were more vocal and active against injustice. But the injustice still took place.

He knew Blaine would not mention either, at a time like this. But Kurt suddenly wished that they could just forget about it altogether.

He couldn't even bear to meet his eyes. He felt too weak and pathetic and ugly.

_Courage_, he said to himself, like a mantra, as Blaine reached out for his good hand in an attempt at a reassuring gesture, but after a moment, Kurt would pull away feebly, eyes stinging with heat.

* * *

><p>Melrose came back on Sunday morning. She was uncharacteristically quiet. Kurt got the feeling that she wanted to say something to him, but there were a lot of people around, and so she just sat sullen and withdrawn in a corner, with her boots perched on the edge of the couch, uninviting.<p>

The Warblers visited that Sunday, accompanied by a few others of Kurt's Dalton friends. Jeff, Nick and Trent even pretended they were delivering a singing telegram. There was a guy, Kyle, who even brought him a book of French poetry, much to Blaine's chagrin.

"What do you mean 'why'? That guy had a crush on Kurt from the very first day. He's got some nerve, doing that when he knows I'm Kurt's boyfriend," Blaine hissed when Rachel and Quinn asked why he had scoffed at the boy's gesture, and the girls couldn't help but laugh.

"Relax, Blaine, I don't think Kurt saw it as anything romantic. He's smitten enough with you," Quinn said, and Blaine muttered 'I guess you're right', but only half-heartedly. He didn't want the Warblers to leave, since he missed them too, but he wished he could make Kyle go away.

There were visits from Mercedes's parents, Sam's mom and little siblings, Tina's parents, Quinn's mom, Rachel's dads. Some of the members of the jazz band stopped by, bearing sweets; Mr. Piano man, Brad, sent his regards, as did Principal Figgins.

Coach Beiste was one of the last visits of Sunday night. She briefly told them about the police calling her on Saturday and ask to have a look at coach Tanaka's records of the football team, looking for the team that the Titans faced that one game that Kurt was the kicker.

"You played Fillmore that time," she said to Kurt.

Fillmore. That's right. They played against the Millard Fillmore High School Buffalos. The team with the blue and white uniforms.

Kurt thought for a moment that he could remember the guys' faces under the shadow of the helmets, running around, tackling, shouting abuse. But no, that was just his mind filling in the blanks, because he barely got the chance to even see them up close. All he did was deliver the winning kick.

And this is what he got for it?

Two years later and they still remembered him and resented him? While he couldn't even recall the name of their team?

"That's it, then," Burt said with a sigh. "They'll know who these kids are and find them."

Coach Beiste nodded. Kurt hardly thought it was really that simple. He figured he would have to be mentally prepared to deal with more of this for a long time; more interrogation, recorded statements, litigation, something like that. He had seen _Law and Order_, there had to be some truth to that.

No one really looked relieved at the idea. Perhaps they were all thinking the same thing as Kurt.

"Coach, what did Karofsky say to the police?" Finn asked.

Kurt rolled his eyes, as did Melrose and Blaine. He wished for once that no one would bring _that guy _up. He didn't want to have to think about him; he thought he could still it put off for a little while, to deal with the fact that the guy who used to be his tormentor, who had once threatened his life, was now the one who saved it.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you, Hudson," the football coach said, with that no-nonsense look of hers. "I mean, it's probably confidential information or something."

"What? Coach, don't be like that," Finn said. "I just wondered if he said anything important."

Shannon Beiste let out a big sigh. "Well, basically he described what he saw and that's it."

"And that was..." Finn egged her on.

"See you tomorrow at practice, Finn," coach Beiste said, standing up to leave. She bid them good night, grabbed her coat, and left.

* * *

><p>Soon enough, visiting hours were over, as Sunday evening wore off, and Blaine, Melrose and Finn were forced to go. The nurses shooed them off because they had to help Kurt change his robe, check his wounds and change his dressings. Blaine was rather glad; he didn't think he'd be able to stomach seeing the wounds.<p>

"Are you okay?" Melrose asked him before they parted ways in the hospital parking lot. She lit up a cigarette and held it lazily to her lips.

"Not really," he replied reflexively. He wished no one would ask him that. It made him feel worse.

Suddenly he remembered the night of the Sadie Hawkins dance, sitting in his room alone, holding a packet of frozen peas to his blackened eye, while his father banged on the door trying to convince him to go to the E.R. He remembered going back to school the following week, blending in with the walls, sitting with his head down in class, hiding in the library between periods, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He remembered barely talking to his parents for an entire week, until his father forced him to sit through family dinner one night and drilled him about Dalton Academy. He remembered agreeing to transfer without giving a second thought to the matter.

And he remembered the guilt he felt every time his friend called him, asking for an explanation, and Blaine never answered his phone. He left him alone in that forsaken school, to fend for himself. Maybe he eventually transferred to another school, too, but Blaine wouldn't know. They never talked again.

Right now, Blaine wanted someone to comfort him, more than anything. And he wanted that someone to be Kurt. But he couldn't ask that from him right now. He sensed Kurt didn't even want to be touched at all, even by Blaine.

Blaine couldn't help but think that maybe that was karma coming to bite him on the ass.

"Are you?" he asked blandly. Melrose shrugged.

"Sure, I'm fucking fantastic," she said sarcastically, blowing smoke up at the dark sky.

Blaine didn't respond; he started toward his car without saying goodbye. He almost stopped and turned toward her. Maybe he just needed someone's, anyone's, arms around him, just for a second. But he didn't; he hardly thought it would really make him feel better.

He didn't stop until he was inside his car.

Inserting the key in the ignition, he paused and watched her through the windshield, on the curb in front of the white building, a shadow in the dim orange glow of the cigarette. She stood there for a long moment, like she was contemplating going home, until she dragged her feett off toward her own car.

With a trembling sigh, he started the engine and drove off.

* * *

><p>Tempers were flaring from very early on Monday.<p>

Finn could feel stares, furtive glances, a few whispers, as he walked toward his locker between first and second period. He tried not to think about it, but it barely appeased the resentment bubbling in his chest, because he knew why they were staring and talking.

"Hey, Hudson, is it true?"

Finn stopped and turned, to find Stanton, that jackass from the hockey team, standing a couple of feet behind him. Finn was afraid to ask what he was talking about. Stanton never really talked to him ever; suddenly addressing him didn't bode well.

"Is it true our prom queen got gang raped behind the cafeteria?"

Finn stared, mouth agape, for half a second, before he lunged forward. He didn't even process in his mind what he was doing, but fortunately he was held back by Sam and Puck.

"Easy, Finn," Sam muttered, as Finn struggled against their grip.

It barely registered that Stanton had recoiled slightly in fear, which usually would've been a satisfactory reaction. But Finn was too outraged. Was that the rumor, or had Stanton just said that to get a rise from him? And did he really think it was funny?

Apparently so.

Stanton had a strange glint in his eye. "I'll take that as a yes," he said with a hint of amusement.

Finn used up every ounce of willpower he had to not react again. However, he felt Sam and Puck letting go of his arms, and watched as Puck delivered a heavy punch to Stanton's jaw, before they both tackled the hockey player to the ground.

Shouts rang out through the corridor as Puck sat heavily on top of Stanton, pinning him to the ground, while Sam was suddenly locked in a struggle with another deadbeat from the hockey team who had jumped in uninvited. People were gathering around to watch.

"HEY HEY HEY! KNOCK IT OFF!" Coach Beiste shouted, pulling Sam and the other player apart, then proceeding to haul Puck off of Stanton. The crowd dispersed quickly, and coach Beiste started yelling at all of them. But Finn couldn't hear. He was watching Karofsky. The right guard, somewhat blending in with the rest of the students without his letterman jacket, was standing to one side, staring like everyone else.

No one got sent to the principal's office, no one was given detention; Beiste let them all off with a warning, and she pulled Stanton and the other hockey player along toward the nurse's office. Sam refused to go, even though his nose was bleeding slightly. He came back from the bathroom with a wad of toilet paper pressed to his face.

"Uh, don't tell Quinn," he said nasally as he squeezed his nose shut.

"I think she'll drill you about that, anyway," Puck said, nursing his sore knuckles.

"Guys, this is bad," Finn said worriedly. "They're talking about it. They're making stuff up. Pretty soon it's gonna be out of control. What do we do?"

"I don't think there's anything we can do. Unless we want to get that detention after all," Puck answered. "I guess we can't let it get to us. Those assholes are just trying to get us riled up."

"Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way," Finn said. "But I'm mostly worried about Blaine. We can't let him find out about this, okay? Everything is bad enough as it is. Blaine doesn't need to know."

"I don't need to know about what?"

The three boys turned, with identical deer-in-headlights looks, and saw Blaine approach them.

"Uh, nothing," Finn said quickly. Blaine eyed him suspiciously. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dull, like he hadn't sleep at all last night.

"What happened to you?" he asked, noticing Sam's bloody nose.

"Umm," Sam hesitated. "I got in a fight." Finn shook his head slightly, giving Sam a warning look.

"What? With who?" Blaine asked.

"Uh, never mind. I gotta go see the nurse," Sam replied, and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Blaine watched him go, looking confused. "Who did he get in a fight with?" he asked again.

Puck shook his head dismissively and put an arm around Blaine's shoulders, leading him away. "Some asshole from the hockey team, no big deal. Hey, don't we have Biology, like, right now? I didn't do my homework. No surprise there, I guess. Can you help me with it? I don't need Hansen shouting at me today, I'm not in the mood. What are you looking at?"

He shouted that last part at Karofsky, who was still standing idly around, his locker open behind him. Blinking in surprise and embarrassment, Dave turned clumsily, shut his locker and walked off briskly.

Finn sighed in relief, leaning back against the row of lockers behind him. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the day, with all those nasty rumors going around. For Blaine's sake, they couldn't let him catch a whiff of them, but Finn couldn't see how they might stop that from happening.

* * *

><p>Dave didn't know what to do anymore.<p>

He was jumpy and anxious all day. He didn't want to be there, in school, with everyone talking about it. _That gay guy got beaten for being gay, _a few said. Stanton had actually used the words 'gang-rape'. It made him feel sick. It was all everyone could talk about. He was dreading football practice, and the comments he would probably hear in the locker room. The questions that would arise. _Karofsky was there, man. Ask him what he was doing there. _

He was half-expecting someone to come out of nowhere and beat him half to death too.

The police had been to the school again. A detective had asked to speak with the Glee boys in the football team. They spoke with some of the members of the football team. Dave anticipated that they would summon him again, to ask more questions. But they didn't. Although that was hardly a relief.

"Hey."

Dave practically jumped out of his skin when Santana came up from behind.

"Chill out, would you? I just wanted to see how you're doing," she said.

"What?" he stared at her like she had gone nuts.

"You know, after Friday. You looked kinda shaken. I figured you'd still be. I thought I'd check on you."

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you mean 'why'? Because somebody has to, before you start acting out, like you just almost did. You're clearly on edge."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's supposed to make you feel better."

"I don't want to talk about it, with you."

"Okay, then who do you want to talk to?"

"Why do you care?" he said with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Santana looked angry.

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice here. No one else cares about how you're feeling about all this. You should be grateful that I even give a damn."

He shuffled on the spot, contemplating walking away and leaving her to talk alone. But he knew she would just follow him around until she had her say.

"You know, as impossible as it may seem to you, I don't totally hate you. I know I should, because of what you did to Kurt, and because you just deserve it for being such a pathetic loser and a jerk and for quitting the Bullywhips when it was doing so much for your image. But you still helped me last year, or at least tried. So I'm trying to help you too."

"Well, I don't need your help."

"Oh, I think you do. You need tons of help."

"Santana, leave me alone!" Dave exclaimed, and in an impulse, he shoved Santana out of the way, bumping her slightly into the lockers, as he started to walk away. Suddenly, he noticed Puck, Lauren, Mike and Tina nearby. The four were glaring at him.

Santana straightened up and sighed. "See that? You shouldn't have done that," she muttered to him as she walked past him.

"It's okay, I'm fine," she announced to her friends. "Don't worry."

Dave felt a cold sweat at the back of his neck, as the Glee boys continued to stare at him hard. Without a second thought, he shouldered his backpack and turned to walk in the opposite direction.

He really didn't want to be here. Maybe no one would notice if he just went home.

* * *

><p>"I know you're all upset," Will said, leaning against the piano in the choir room.<p>

There was a pall over Glee club that afternoon. If it were his choice, he would've called it off for the day; however, he thought he might as well try to do something to keep the kids' minds off of everything. But he could see from their faces that there was not much to be done.

It had been an entire day of fielding glances, ignoring rumors, being questioned. All of them were irritable, some more noticeably than others. Finn looked tired and edgy, even if he tried to hide it.

It had been nice for them during the weekend, when they could visit Kurt at the hospital and hang out, the whole gang together, and try to lift Kurt's spirits. But back at school on Monday, Kurt's absence, especially in the choir room, was too noticeable.

"We are all upset about everything, but we're all here for each other. And soon enough, things will start looking up," he continued.

"We know you're trying to cheer us up, Mr. Schue, but it's kind of hard to see. Things are still too heavy," Mercedes answered. Will sighed.

"We've been through this, kids. You can't let these things get to you."

"It's just that, it proves it," Tina said. "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"Look," Will stood upright and approached them, "Kurt is going to be okay. He'll recover from this, and the police will find the kids who did it. And we have to keep going, because we can't let things like this get us down. We have to move on, no matter what."

He took a deep breath. There hadn't been such a bleak panorama in the group since Kurt's dad's heart attack; or since Kurt had left McKinley and enrolled in Dalton.

"Kurt wouldn't want us to forfeit Sectionals, just because he can't be there. He'd want us to do our best and win. For all of us, including him."

There was a long pause. Some of them exchanged glances, others just looked at their own hands.

"We know," Rachel said slowly. "It's just hard."

"Yeah, how are we supposed to sing and dance a winning routine if we're so bummed?" Puck added.

"We'll just have to de-bum ourselves," Will said with a shrug.

"Where's Melrose?" Artie asked suddenly.

Will stopped and looked at him. He looked around at Brad, who shrugged.

"I haven't seen her all day," Santana said.

"She's probably back at the hospital," Quinn answered.

Will guessed Quinn was right, but he wondered if Melrose was okay; she hadn't been herself lately.

"Look guys, can we focus? We have to do this. Let's get started... Blaine?"

Everyone turned to look at Blaine, who seemed to be in a trance. He looked up at the sound of his name, eyes glazed over.

"Are you okay?" Will asked.

Blaine looked down and bit his lip, and then shook his head slowly.

"May I be excused?" he said hoarsely. "I... can't be here right now. It's just too odd... without him."

Will watched him for a second, before he nodded. Without another word, Blaine grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, and walked out of the room. Will turned back to the rest of the kids.

"Finn? Do you wanna go too?"

Finn was a little confused at first, but then he looked relieved. He grabbed his things and sprinted after Blaine, with a quick 'thanks, Mr. Schue' as he passed.

Will sighed; he'd have to accept the fact that there wouldn't be much progress for today. He suddenly wished Melrose was there. She always seemed to know how to get their spirits going.

* * *

><p><em>So I made up the school name for the team that Kurt played against in Preggers. As far as I know, there's no Millard Fillmore High School in Lima or anywhere in Allen County, Ohio. I picked the name at random from a list of former U.S. Presidents (like William McKinley). The team is the MFHS Buffalos, because Millard Fillmore founded the University of Buffalo. LOL I'm so clever.<em>

_The resolution begins with next chapter. Promise. Meanwhile, you can click below and review. Thanks. _

_-Valentina _


	15. Chapter 15

_It's been a while. It's been a very busy couple of weeks for me. And now I'll definitively not be done before the premiere of Season 3 (crap). Oh well, the story is coming to an end soon. And I will be happy to have stuck by it all this time._

_Also, sorry for all the angst. It will be over soon. I promise._

_Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX and their writers. _

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

Monday noon, while Finn and Blaine weren't there fussing around him, Kurt got an unexpected visit.

Two of them, in fact.

"Dad, I don't want the jello. I don't like orange-flavored jello."

"You should eat everything they give you here. They give it to you for a reason."

"This coming from the man who stubbornly refused to eat miso soup after he had an embolism."

"He's right, honey. Who do you think you are?"

"Carole, don't side with him. He's my son. I'm just taking care of him."

"Well, if you love me, you'll request a different flavor. It's not that big a deal."

"You used to love orange-flavored jello."

"That was years ago. If you ask the nurse to switch it for any other flavor, I promise I'll eat it."

There was a knock, the door opened slowly and someone stepping in. The Hummels were too busy arguing over jello to notice.

"Dad, stop it. Oh..." Kurt trailed off and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. Burt and Carole turned to see who it was.

A man wearing a grey coat, his dark hair sleeked back, stood under the threshold, hesitantly. He looked rather grim.

"H-hello, Mr. Anderson," Kurt said, his voice almost catching.

"Hello, Kurt," the man replied.

Burt tensed, while Carole did her best to greet the newcomer with a bright smile.

"Uh, Mr. Anderson, this is my dad, Burt, and my stepmother, Carole. Dad, Carole, this is Blaine's father," Kurt said. Mr. Anderson reached out his hand politely, and Burt and Carole shook it in turn.

"My wife is here too, she just ran into someone by the elevators. She should be here in a moment," the man said crisply. He approached the side of the bed slowly, dubiously.

"It's very nice of you to stop by," Carole said.

"How are you?" Mr. Anderson asked, like he was willing himself to be pleasant.

"I'll be all right," Kurt nodded slowly.

"Good," Mr. Anderson said, unconvinced.

"Blaine stopped by before school," Carole interjected sweetly.

"I thought he would," the man said.

There was an awkward pause in which Carole tried to pull her husband along, to go talk to the nurse, but Burt wouldn't budge. He stood by the door and didn't move or make a sound. Carole could tell that he wasn't about to leave his son alone.

"He's a mess, you know?" Mr. Anderson said quietly.

He was talking about Blaine. Kurt looked down at his hands.

"I'm very sorry."

"I didn't mean it that way. It's just..."

The man's eyes swept over Kurt, analyzing his state; the black eye, the arm cast, the cuts and bruises, the needles and tubes coming out of his hand; and his eyes seemed to darken. Kurt, who had been starting to feel better that morning, suddenly felt his stomach clench.

"Why didn't you boys stay in Dalton?"

There was a certain bitterness to the question, with some unintentional despair seeping through his voice. Behind him, Burt was shaking his head, but Kurt wasn't sure if his father agreed with Mr. Anderson or not.

Kurt forced himself to look at him in the eye. "Mr. Anderson... it's not going to make a difference now."

"I know," Mr. Anderson replied quickly, a little harsh. Like he was just frustrated. He kept staring at Kurt's arm cast, as if maybe he was trying to read all of the signatures on it -practically everyone who visited had put their name down-.

"I wish," the man started, but he seemed to catch himself before going on, "I wish Blaine would understand that... that it's not that I'm ashamed. It's not that I wish he were different. It's... I'm always bracing myself for the worst." His voice was very grave all of a sudden. "And now you..."

Kurt understood. There was nothing but pain there. This man kept it all inside, all the time, but it was there. It didn't go anywhere.

Dalton hadn't been Blaine's idea.

Kurt suddenly felt very bad for Mr. Anderson. And he wished that Blaine could be there, that he could walk in right then and hear everything. Because he was certain that Blaine had no idea, that he and his father did not talk about this at all. They loved each other, but they couldn't see eye-to-eye.

Kurt caught his father's gaze, and knew that Burt was thinking the same thing. Not everyone had what they had. Not that it was always easy for them, they didn't always agree on everything, but they really tried; because once upon a time, they only had each other.

Kurt guessed that it was just harder for some people. Even if they loved each other.

"I think you need to tell him that," Kurt said gently.

"I think he's already made up his mind about me," Mr. Anderson replied, with a mix of resentment and resignation.

Kurt shook his head lightly. "Well, I don't think he knows what's right for him all the time," he said.

For a moment he wondered if he had overstepped. Mr. Anderson stared long and hard at Kurt, but it wasn't really an unkind stare. This man couldn't help his nature. And right now, Kurt couldn't almost hear the inner battle in Mr. Anderson's mind, pouring out through his dark eyes.

And then it was gone. Replaced by a forced air of calm and collectedness. Kurt, however, tensed.

"I seem to have interrupted your meal. I won't take up any more of your time," the man said curtly, adjusting the lapels of his coat.

"Take care, Kurt," he added, and he reached out a hand and placed it briefly on Kurt's shoulder. That was as most as he was going to get, as most people got, from him, probably. But to Kurt, at that moment, it was great progress.

Mr. Anderson didn't wait for his wife. He stepped outside, after shaking Burt's and Carole's hands again and saying goodbye, and they heard him walk down the hallway toward the entrance. A few moments later, Mrs. Anderson, in an elegant black pencil skirt and floral blazer, came in carrying some flowers and a card. She was sweet and pleasant; she kissed Kurt on the cheek, exchanged pleasantries with his parents, wished him a speedy recovery, and then left, promising that she and her husband would visit again, before Kurt was discharged from the hospital. They never did.

Kurt wondered if he should tell Blaine about this encounter. Because he doubted that Blaine's father would bring it up unprompted.

Maybe Kurt could put off telling him for a while, just to see if the unlikely happened.

* * *

><p>The next day, when Dave saw Santana again, in the hallways, she deliberately avoided looking at him. A moment later, he tripped over something and nearly fell flat on his face. His books and binder clattered to the floor.<p>

"Oops," Brittany said, barely looking back at him as he whipped around. She turned back to Santana, and hooked arms with the other girl. Like she had just been protecting her.

Did she just trip him? Did she do that on purpose?

He picked up his things and darted off toward French class. He sat in his usual seat and put his head in his hands, anxiously blinking at the desk.

He was still having problems sleeping, and he was tired and a little nauseous all the time. He jumped every time the phone rang at home, expecting it to be the police calling to bugger him for more information.

And worst of all, the reason he couldn't sleep was still Kurt.

He kept having nightmares, and when he wasn't having nightmares, he was having difficulty going back to sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about him. How he was, how long would it take for him to come back. If he ever came back.

He wished he hadn't blown Santana off like that; he wished he could feel comfortable talking to her. Even in their weird, twisted "relationship", he could almost find a way to relate to her. But she was proud, and she wouldn't forgive him easily for having reacted the way he did.

He just needed to talk to someone. He needed someone to be on his side.

He considered Miss Pillsbury. Or coach Beiste.

Or Melrose.

Dave looked up, suddenly feeling a bit hopeful, as students poured in. He waited for the teacher to come in.

Of course, Melrose. She knew everything, he didn't have to explain anything to her.

She said she believed him.

She was Kurt's friend.

She'd understand.

Even if she hated him, like everyone else seemed determined to, there was nothing that he needed to hide from her.

It sounded crazy; he barely knew her. But she seemed to know him. And that's as much as he could ask for at the moment.

"_Bonjour_, children," a female voice rang out, as the bell rang. "Did you miss me?"

Dave's face fell.

Miss Moreau, the French teacher, stood at the front, beaming at them. She gesticulated a lot with her left hand as she spoke, tossing her short auburn hair like a teenager.

"_J'e suis desolee_. You're probably wondering why I was gone for so long," she started, giggling. Most kids exchanged glances of confusion. "I'm sure you know, I was getting married. But during the honeymoon, I broke my right leg while skiing. And my doctor told me I had to stay..."

Dave looked around, catching Tina, Finn and Brittany looked at each other questioningly. Tina put her hand up.

"_Oui_, miss Cohen-Chang?"

"_Excusez moi_, Mademoiselle Moreau-"

"Madame Brown." The woman wiggled the fingers on her left hand, showing off her wedding ring.

"Where is Melrose?"

"Melrose?"

"She was teaching us French this year."

"Ah, but she was only the substitute. I am back, so she won't be. Unless I break my leg again."

Tina's eyebrows shot up. Apparently everyone had forgotten that Melrose was just the substitute, and she would not be there all year round.

"Did she not tell you that I was coming back this week?" The students all shook their heads. "How sad. I hope you still have a chance to say goodbye to her, if that's what you hoped for."

"What? Why? Where is she going?" Finn frowned.

"Well, she mentioned New York, I think. I don't know any specifics."

"But when-"

"Enough questions! Back to class!" Mrs. Brown (nee Moreau) clapped her hands, and her smile vanished. "Now, I believe you should be in chapter four already. Turn to page 52 of the book, and Miss Pierce, will you please start..."

Dave tuned out the class, and especially Brittany's terrible pronunciation. His eyes were fixed on the whiteboard in the front.

Melrose was gone. Melrose was leaving.

If he couldn't talk to Melrose, then he was lost.

He didn't know how much longer he could go on, without going crazy.

* * *

><p>"Melrose?"<p>

Will knocked on number 8 three times, but there was no response. She was there, however; her Volvo was parked outside.

He rapped his knuckles against the door more loudly this time.

"Melrose, come on, I just wanna talk." No answer. "Melrose?"

He heard something inside. It was the sound of glass breaking. He started banging on the door.

"MELROSE!"

Still nothing. He contemplated tearing down the door, like they do in movies. Then he thought of something.

Surely, there it was, hidden behind a loose piece of the wall paneling, a spare key. He inserted it quickly into the keyhole, turned it, closed his eyes, and pushed inside.

The broken flower vase had been, like so many previous times, knocked over by the rabbit. He chewed innocently on the stem of a wilted daisy. Will sighed in relief.

Melrose, barefoot and clad in wrinkled shorts and top, sat on her bed looking out the window. A large pair of headphones was strapped over her ears.

So she was fine. Nothing to worry about.

Will mentally kicked himself. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn't just slink out like a burglar or a stalker. Yet, he couldn't reach out to get her attention and freak her out. But he thought that was the least sneaky thing to do. He hesitantly touched her shoulder.

"AHHH!"

Suddenly Will was flat on the floor, wind knocked out of his lungs, and a throbbing pain on his temple and shoulder. Melrose stood over him, angry and breathless.

"WILL!"

"Oww..."

"What the hell?"

"I can see that you can take care of yourself," Will said, straining to catch his breath.

"How did you get in?" Melrose demanded.

Will held up the spare key tentatively. She snatched it out of his hand.

"It's a pretty reckless move, but I guess you're your own burglar alarm system," Will said.

"That is for emergencies, not for you to barge in whenever you want," she said indignantly.

"Sorry. But I did knock first, a lot, if that's what you're wondering," he said, pushing himself up.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I was worried about you," he said, standing up. "You didn't tell us your substitute job was done; it caught us all by surprise. I called you, and so did Shannon and Emma, and you never answered."

Melrose rolled her eyes and plopped down onto her couch. "I'm fine."

"Sure," he said sarcastically, sitting next to her. "It's one in the afternoon and you haven't even showered, and you've clearly been crying. Typical tuesday."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared daggers at him. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Are you really going to New York?"

Melrose looked a bit confused. "Not this instant. Why?"

"Miss Moreau told the children that you were," Will said, and Melrose understood.

"Oh... I only said that so it seemed like I had a plan."

"Why?" Will raised an eyebrow. Melrose shrugged.

"Because I didn't want to seem like a loser. Not that I care what she thinks, I don't even know her, and the three seconds I talked to her, she seemed kind of annoying. But it was a reflex."

"So you're not going to New York."

Another shrug. "I don't know... maybe. I wouldn't rule it out."

There was a pause; Will looked around the untidy apartment, and his eyes landed on a white picture frame, containing a black and white photograph of a young man, the Eiffel tower in the background.

"Why not go back to Paris?" Will asked. "You know... try to sort things out?"

Again, Melrose looked thoroughly annoyed. "What do you want, Will?" she asked tiredly.

He took in her appearance. The lazy, reddish eyes, the tousled hair, the morose attitude. He didn't want to feel bad for her.

"I need your help," he finally said.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. More than you believe."

Melrose seemed to be about to say something, but she stopped herself.

"We're going to Sectionals soon," Will started. "And the kids are morally drained because of... The last things these kids need is to lose so early in the competition, at something that they love. Something that I think would really make them feel better."

"Yeah, nothing like singing to make you forget that your friend is in the hospital with multiple injuries from a brutal assault," Melrose said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean. I told them to do it for Kurt."

"Where do I come in?" she asked, but she appeared to be utterly unconvinced.

"I need your help, your expertise. I especially need your advice and your support," he said. She pressed an index to her mouth, as if she were thinking.

"Has it occurred to you that I don't want to go back to that school?"

Will sighed. "Be serious."

"I am serious."

Will got up and paced for a moment.

"What's gotten into you?" he turned to her, exasperated. "You're not like this. I know this is rough, but you've got to... I thought that you, out of all people, who has known Kurt the longest, who has seen him get beaten up and bruised, who stood by him and fought back-"

"And you think I enjoyed it? Getting my ass kicked?"

Melrose was staring icily at him, and Will's mouth snapped shut.

"Kurt was going through a rough time back then, because his mother had just died. And we were constantly targeted because we were weirdos. And so we teamed up and fought back together. It helped him believe in himself, and it helped me, and we promised never to take anything lying down," her voice grew thicker. "But that's easier said than done. Kurt was beaten half to death by two monsters. And he was alone. And he was kicked when he was already down."

"Until five days ago, he was happier than I had ever seen him in my life," she added with a sniff. "I've never seen him as devastated as he is now."

Will swallowed hard. "He'll be okay. But not if you're not there for him."

"He doesn't need me. No one needs me."

"Stop with this self-deprecating attitude. _I_ need you. I need you to help me lift these kids' spirits. You've always been good at it."

"No, I was good for getting them in trouble," she answered matter-of-factly. "Do you not get it? I didn't come to Glee club every day to give advice and stuff. I came because I needed a place to belong."

Will sat down again beside her, but at that instant she was to be trying to look anywhere except at him.

"I just got too comfortable. What happened to Kurt, it made me realize that I've been living in this bubble inside my head, where everything appears to be fine," she said. "Seeing Kurt like that... that bubble burst, and I realize that it's time to grow up. But I don't know how." She let out a long, shaky breath. "I just... don't know what to do with myself."

Will nodded slowly. "Everyone lives inside a bubble. Basically because being a grown up sucks," he said, and managed to get a chuckle from her. "It's not like anyone's got anything figured out."

Melrose was shaking her head. "I'm never getting anything figured out. I mean, I was actually in Paris, which I love, and I was doing what I love, and I was with someone I love..." her eyes flickered down to her hands. "I already had everything that I could ever want, and I had no idea."

"And he proposed one day, and I was happy... for like five minutes. And then I panicked. Because good things just don't happen to me. It would only be a matter of time before he realized he was making a mistake. That I'm not cut out to be a wife or a mom or anything. I'm not even cut out to be an adult. So I left him..." her voice caught in her throat, a tear trickling down her cheek, "before he could leave me."

Will's eyes stared unblinking at her, surprised and in shock.

"And I came back here, because this is the one place that feels somewhat like home. It's the only place where I feel like I have a family," she sniffed loudly. "But they're going through... stuff, they have their own issues, and they have their own happiness. And I don't fit in there anymore. I don't fit anywhere," she finished flatly.

"Then you fit in with us. You will always fit in with the Glee club," he said, rubbing her arm.

Melrose snorted derisively. "Not even with you," she said with a sigh. "Your Glee club, those kids are amazing. They're all fighting the same battle: they're constantly diminished by their environment, they're told that they're losers. And that only makes them stronger."

"There's no one telling me that I'm not good enough. There never has. No one has ever really made me believe that I'm ugly or stupid or useless, or that I can't do whatever I want." Another tear spilled from her eye. "It's me. I tell myself those things, all the time. I'm my own worst enemy. I'm so scared of failing that I would rather not even try. And I get frustrated with myself, but I blame it on everything and everyone else. It's easier than realizing that it's all in my head. The moment things look up for me, the moment I start to feel authentically happy, is the day that I screw everything up, on purpose."

She wiped her tears away and stared blankly ahead. "I keep running away. When I feel bad or scared, all I want to do is run and leave everything behind, no matter what that means."

"But you can only run for so long, before you get too tired or there's nowhere else to go," he said.

She nodded. She seemed to be containing a mini-breakdown. He waited for her to calm down; just like back in the waiting room at the hospital, he wished to comfort her, but didn't know how.

"Maybe you need someone to hold you in place before you start running away again," he added.

She gave him a sideways glance. "So I'm supposed to stay here in Lima?"

"Not unless you're just running for the sake of running away."

"Before I run into myself, huh?" she smiled knowingly. Will chuckled.

"That's right, Holly Golightly."

He pulled her toward him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she relaxed into the embrace.

"Sometimes it's not about staying," he said. "It's about standing still, until your life can catch up with you." Melrose smiled sadly.

"I wasn't going to leave. Not at least until Kurt got well."

"And what were you planning to do in the meantime?"

"I don't know. Get a meaningless job?"

"That's a plan."

"Ugh, I _am_ a loser."

"No, you're not. You're talented and clever, and you're gonna be great."

She didn't say anything or make a noise. They sat in silence for a long time.

"Thanks for coming to check on me," she said softly, shifting against his side.

"That's what friends do," he said. "Sorry I broke into your apartment, tho."

"Sorry I drop-kicked you to the floor."

"I guess I deserved it," he said with a shrug and a laugh. He motioned to leave, but he turned to her.

"I know you don't think so, but I know you will always be able to rely on your family. That's just the kind of people they are, you should know that already," he said. "And you know you can rely on us as well. Glee club is family too."

Melrose smiled but scrunched her nose. "What a lovely sentiment. I can now see why Sue hates you."

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment. "Will you consider coming back to help?" he asked. Melrose pretended to think about it for a long time, like it was such a burden.

"As long as it doesn't cut into my very busy day of moping around in the bliss of fresh unemployment."

"That's the spirit," he winked and waved goodbye as he exited the apartment.

Will sighed. He never thought that speaking to Melrose could leave him so emotionally drained.

He thought he'd pay Kurt a quick visit, before going back to school in time for Glee club.

* * *

><p>Dave sat stiffly and silent, eyes fixed intently on the road, even though he wasn't driving.<p>

Paul Karofsky glanced occasionally at his son, intent on breaking the silence, but it was as if he knew there was no way to get Dave to talk at the moment. His thoughts were a jumble, and his mind had stayed back at the police station, a few miles back.

Detective Owens had called the Karofsky household that morning, informing them that they had brought one of the suspects in, and asking if it was possible for Dave to come identify him.

Paul had been watching Dave carefully since then, because it appeared to him that Dave seemed a lot more nervous than he expected. He called the school to inform them that Dave would be a little late, and then he drove him to the police station.

The first thing that struck Dave was how calm everything was. The only noise in the police station was the rustling of papers and a few phones ringing. People sat behind desks or walked around with coffee cups. Nothing ever happened in Lima, and this was proof of it. Detective Owens greeted them, and led them directly to where they were interrogating the suspect. Hearing and seeing all of this, Dave had the strange sensation of being in an episode of _Law and Order_. Walking into a small dark room and seeing into the interrogation room through a two-way mirror was certainly a bizarre experience he never thought he'd have. He stared at the boy on the other side.

Roy Nelson, 17, 6'2, 230 pounds, had been a left guard for the Fillmore Buffalos during his sophomore year. He had transferred last year, to Glendale High, and was now with the Glendale Warriors. He was reportedly best friends with a Jacob Foster, also in Glendale High, also previously in the Fillmore Buffalos -as a right guard-, but Roy himself refused to confirm it.

"He's protecting his friend," detective Owens said, staring through the glass at the boy sitting uncomfortably at the table, glancing hesitantly at the police officer by the door.

"And where is his friend?" Paul asked.

"We're still looking for him. We went to his house, but there was no one home. Apparently he called in sick today. But the Glendale football coach did say that he had to ban Jacob Foster from practice on Monday, because he showed up with a broken nose."

Dave was barely paying attention. He couldn't help but notice the photos on top of the table in front of Roy; detective Owens had displayed them to show him what they had done to the victim, to jar his memory of the event, to get him to confess to it.

It was pictures of Kurt's injuries. The blackened eye, the cut lip, the scraped cheek. There was a stitched up wound on the crown of his head, and another on his forehead. There were X-ray copies of an arm and a ribcage. There were pictures of smaller wounds, cuts and bruises, all over the body.

Dave felt a lump in his throat, and his breathing came out in shuddering gasps.

"Dave? Dave."

Dave looked up, blinking hard.

"Can you confirm that's him? Do you recognize him?" the detective asked.

Dave slowly nodded, eyes trained on the boy on the other side of the glass. "Yeah, he's one of them."

Detective Owens took a deep breath and his face softened somewhat. Maybe it was relief. As he was leading Dave and his father out, he was explaining what they had to do. But Dave was barely listening as the detective continued to talk calmly.

"We will let you know if anything else comes up. Thank you for your cooperation."

"How long before they catch the other one?" Dave asked, unable to stop himself.

Detective Owens seemed to seize him up, like he was figuring out if it was prudent to answer.

"Well, considering the information at hand, I'd say not long now," he said tentatively. Dave nodded in understanding.

"I know this is scary, but you're doing the right thing. I'm sure your friend will appreciate it," Owens added. But there was something in the way that he said it, that made Dave feel a cold sweat. The detective _must_ have read the filed information, the answers he had given during his own questioning, and he had to know that he was not Kurt's friend, but had actually once been his enemy.

Or maybe he knew that Dave was just trying to make things right.

On the drive to school, he could feel his father's eyes on him all the time. The silence was starting to drive him mad, because he knew his father wanted to say something, or for him to say something, but neither did. Dave would rather bear the silence than have to answer any more questions.

As the car pulled into the school parking lot, he felt dread. McKinley High was gradually becoming eerie-looking every time he stood before it. It was a place where he no longer wanted to be, ever.

The parking lot was almost empty. A couple of straggling kids rushed inside, running late for class. A truant ambled about in the yard, texting from under a tree.

Dave stared around and was glad for the absence of people. He grabbed his bag.

"Well," his father started. "I'll see you after school."

"Bye, dad."

He got out and was about to shut the door closed, when his father leaned over.

"Davey," he said. Dave froze.

His father rarely used that nickname. That was a childhood nickname, a pet form that Paul Karofsky resorted to when young Dave was too scared of the dark, or of going to school the next day, or just of being scared. 'Davey' meant 'chin up', it meant 'be brave', it meant 'there's nothing to be afraid of, as long as I'm here'.

And Dave felt the lump in his throat again, as he bent down to hear what his father was going to say.

"If there's anything you need," Paul said, "I'm here, okay? Remember that."

Shaking off the desire to crawl back into the car and ask his father to drive him home and let him stay there forever, he smiled as best as he could, although feebly, and nodded. The lump wouldn't let him talk. He shut the car door and walked off toward the main building. He didn't look back at his father, who lingered for a moment before driving off. With a sigh, Dave pushed through the door and into the halls of McKinley.

* * *

><p>The bell just rang for the end of first period. Students flooded the hallway, coming out of every classroom, and noise filled the building again.<p>

As soon as Dave approached his locker, someone bumped him, hard.

He was so unprepared, that he actually stumbled backward and had to catch himself with the handle of his locker door. Mike Chang kept going, looking straight ahead, glancing back only briefly to check his reaction.

Dave wasn't even angered by it. He was just surprised.

But this was the third time since the day before, that he had been taken by surprise by someone from the Glee club. He let out a deep breath, knowing that this was just the beginning.

* * *

><p>After lunch, as he was walking down the hallway, he saw Brittany and Santana heading toward him, holding pinkies. Brittany smiled sweetly before knocking his books off his hands and keep on going, Santana being, or acting, unaware. Brittany muttered something like "a taste of his own medicine".<p>

* * *

><p>In football practice, Puck kept bumping him on purpose. He never apologized. He even tackled him once, for no apparent reason, and didn't even get any grief from coach Beiste. Dave used every ounce of self-control he could muster to not start a brawl. He didn't tell the coach, either; he had a feeling she was not too fond of him either.<p>

* * *

><p>The dirty looks they were giving him all the time, he was used to those.<p>

But it had been a long time since the hatred was so focused on him.

The last drop came as he headed for his locker before going home; Puck and Sam, walking side by side, swooped down on him in a flash and slammed him hard and loud against the wall of lockers. He crashed into the wall so hard, that he lost his footing and fell to the ground on his ass.

The boys walked away, looking rather satisfied. Everyone around them pretended to not have seen anything. A kid even skipped over his leg.

Dave stayed on the floor, catching his breath, staring into space in disbelief. He didn't even try to cover up his distress anymore.

He was being bullied. By the Glee club.

They were doing to him exactly the same things he had ever done to them. To Kurt.

_Talk about karma, _he thought bitterly.

But this time he knew he hadn't done anything. He hadn't been that jerk in a while. But he knew he wouldn't so easily shake off that image that they had of him. And now they were teaming up against him, and getting even.

He was a loser, just like them. And he had never felt more alone.

He just needed to talk to her. He needed to talk to someone. Or he was going to lose it.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Miss Pillsbury?"<p>

Emma looked up to see David Karofsky hesitantly opening the door to her office, and it took her by surprise. She doubted he had ever set foot in her office before.

"David, yes, come in. How may I help you?" she chirped, wondering what this new development was.

He just stood there, awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Emma quickly gestured toward the chair across from her, as she took a seat and interlaced her hands on top of her neat desk.

Dave didn't sit down, he just lingered behind the chair. "I was, um... I've been meaning to..." he trailed off and stared at her intently, and Emma could almost hear the fierce debate going on in his head.

"Is there something you want to talk about? We can talk. This is a safe environment," she said cheerfully. She pointed again to the chair, but Dave seemed to snap out of it and shook his head.

"No, it's all right. I just..."

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Um, yeah."

"Are you sure?"

Dave avoided her eyes. Emma was certain that this had everything to do with last Friday; she supposed Dave was having a hard time.

She wondered, though, if there was more. After all, there must have been a reason for a detective to come to her and ask her and a few other faculty members regarding Dave's relationship with Kurt. Emma only knew what Will had told her; when it came to dealing with Dave's expulsion and subsequent return last year, she had been left out of the loop. So she wasn't much help during the police interrogation. But maybe she could help now.

"Is there anything you want to, you know, get off your chest?" she started tentatively.

Dave seemed to make up his mind about something. He put on a pretend smile of confidence.

"I was wondering if you happened to have Miss Melrose's address."

Emma stared at him, wide eyes slightly wider than usual. "Why would you need that?" she asked.

"I was just... she lent me some French books, and I have no other way to give them back to her, now that she's not coming back."

Emma sensed he was lying, but she couldn't be sure.

"Wouldn't you rather call her first? I can give you her number. She can work that out with you then."

"No, I already have her number. I've tried calling her, but she won't answer," he said.

Again, Emma wasn't certain if that was the truth or not. But she had tried calling Melrose too, at Will's request, to no avail. Will had to go check on her personally, and thus confirmed that she was just screening calls. She didn't want to talk to anyone, unless it was important.

Maybe this was important, Emma thought. There was something about Dave's earnest face, about his eyes, that Emma found peculiar. But she shook her head slowly.

"Well, I'm sorry, David, but I'm not sure I'm at liberty to give you that information," she said.

"I really need to give the books back to her. Please."

He looked desperate. His eyes were dark and heavy, and he looked somewhat pale and thinner. There was something definitively wrong. And Emma knew that he wasn't about to share it with her.

"Are you sure you can't tell me what's bothering you?" she tried one last time.

Dave breathed a couple of times before nodding. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said, and weighed the options for a moment. She scanned through her archives quickly and found Melrose's file in the faculty section. Her eyes skimmed the page and landed on the address, and Emma grabbed a post-it and a pen and jotted it down quickly.

"I suggest you try calling again to ask her for permission first," she said as she copied the address. "I'm already violating privacy codes by doing this, and I'm sure Melrose will probably make me pay for this, but I trust that you won't make me regret it."

She ripped the post-it off and held it toward Dave. Uncertain, Dave reached for it and stared.

"Thank you, Miss Pillsbury," he said meekly, before walking out the door.

Emma watched him go, feeling her chest slightly tighten. Dave had changed drastically in a very short time. There was a time in which he was a good student, although a bit of a trouble-maker and a bully. Then he acted out on some kind of built-up anger and threatened the life of another student and got himself expelled. Then he tried to make amends, formed the Bullywhips and became king; and for a moment Emma thought that this was it, that he would finally be all right again.

Now he just seemed lost.

Whatever wise words he was hoping for Melrose to provide him with, Emma just hoped that she would give him a chance, instead throwing him out her door.

Because that's what it seemed that Dave needed. Just a chance.

* * *

><p>Dave turned up unannounced at Melrose's doorstep.<p>

He knocked a couple of times at number 8, hands trembling, and not from the cold. He was shaking with anticipation and nerves and just fear.

Two whole minutes passed before he tried knocking again, and finally he heard some movement coming from inside. A bolt turned loudly and the door opened slowly.

Melrose answered the door in a pair of black panties, a blue top, a serious case of bed-head, and not much else. She looked a little dumbfounded. A cigarette hung from her lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not at all freaked out, just curious.

Now Dave's tongue decided to tie up and stop working properly. He hadn't actually planned anything to explain his presence. He had been too busy trying to not chicken out.

"I needed to talk to you," he said stupidly.

"So you came to my home? How did you even get my address?"

"But the glee kids are here all the time," Dave answered defensively.

"And how would you know that?"

"Santana told me."

"Ah, Santana. Right, Kurt told me you were in league with her. That you were even each other's beards. How's that going for you?" she took a long drag from her cigarette and practically blew the smoke in his face. Dave held his breath until it dissipated.

"I was going to talk to you at school, but you left."

"Hey, I was just the sub," she shrugged. "Your real french teacher is back from her honeymoon, and now I have to find a new job. I'm sorry if I'm no longer available for improvised therapy."

Dave fidgeted nervously, wondering if he would ever get a chance to talk about what he came for. "Aren't you gonna let me in?" he pleaded.

Melrose bit her lip. She seemed momentarily preoccupied with her appearance. But she shrugged again. "I guess it's fine. After all, you _are_ gay, and I don't care about your opinion." She pulled the door open wider and gestured for him to enter.

Dave looked around the messy apartment and scrunched up his nose. There was a high concentration of cigarette smoke, even when the windows were open.

He kept looking at everything, while Melrose clanked around in the kitchen. She was putting the kettle on the stove, and putting out two mismatched tea cups and bags of tea on the counter.

"Have a seat and enlighten me as for the reason of your presence, Mr. Karofsky," she said, leaving the kitchen. She curled up on the couch, and Dave sat opposite her on an armchair.

"Look, I know you probably have heard stuff about me from Kurt, and I know you hate me-"

"I don't hate you," she interrupted. "If anything I feel sorry for you, but not in a good way." She leaned forward. "I know you think you've got a huge problem right now, and maybe you do, and you just want some compassion, but I can't give you any."

Melrose took a drag from her cigarette and let it out slowly. "When I was a student at McKinley High, it was full of people like you. Boys with too much testosterone, who were molded by society into being the all-american jocks, and adhere to a social pyramid, and reject anything different; boys with an inexplicable impulse to constantly harass whoever they considered lesser. And I hated them."

"But now I think, maybe some of them were like you. Hiding a secret so big, and they probably think that they have everything to lose if it ever got out. And I feel sorry for them, too."

She shook her head. "I could hate you, for what you did to Kurt, for what you've done to everyone at the school that you once felt you had the right to terrorize. I should hate you for being one of them, the kids that pushed me around when I was a high school loser. But I just feel sorry for you, for all of you, because you've been raised to think that you're on top of the world, but as soon as you graduate, you're just like everyone else, and life is going to kick your ass. And you will be totally unprepared."

Dave watched her, unblinking, as she spoke cooly.

"So I really hope you didn't come looking for compassion, because you're not gonna get any."

Dave swallowed. "I just needed to talk to someone."

"Why don't you talk to Santana?"

"I can't talk to Santana. She only makes me feel worse."

"And what makes you think that I'm not going to?"

"Because unlike her, you might actually give me a chance to explain myself."

Melrose cocked an eyebrow. "That's true."

He rubbed his hands nervously on his jeans. "The day that Kurt- you said you believed me, that I didn't do this to him."

"Yeah, I could kill you for putting me on the spot like that," she growled.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you, you know everything. You understand that I was- that I'm-"

He stopped to breathe, because he could feel himself trembling already, under Melrose's stare. He sighed. "I haven't felt fine in a long time," he said. "I just don't know how much longer I can take this."

"What are you-? You can't just talk like that! It sounds like you're contemplating suicide!" Melrose shouted. Dave's eyes widened.

"NO! I haven't- I don't," he exclaimed. "It's not like that... I don't even know-how you came to that..."

"You haven't even tried, have you?" she asked.

"Committing suicide? NO!" he exclaimed again.

"I meant coming out."

Dave was potentially more horrified at that idea.

"Not really," he said, recalling Prom night bitterly. Melrose gave him a somewhat disappointed look, and he shook his head. "You just said so yourself. McKinley is full of people who will rip me to pieces if they know. And I just know that I wouldn't be able to take it."

Melrose stared at him, scrutinizing. The kettle started to whistle, and she slowly got up to turn off the stove. She poured the boiling water in the two cups, placed them on a tray, and brought it over to the living room area. She put it down on the center table/trunk. Dave momentarily thought that it was such a girly thing for her to do, to prepare tea for a visitor (she was European, it was probably customary and polite), but he also thought that it was such a subtly kind gesture, like a peace offering, to make him tea without even asking.

They were silent as they each prepared their tea. As he drank some, Dave felt a little better.

"Maybe you need some form of incentive," Melrose spoke up, "something to help you realize it can't be so bad."

Dave nodded slowly. "I used to have one. Well, two, actually."

"Really?"

"But," his face clouded over, "I don't anymore." He took a deep breath. "The Glee club."

Melrose's eyebrows shot up. "You wanna join Glee club?"

Dave shook his head. "No, I... just... They've always hated me. They already hate me more for what I did to Kurt, even when I tried to make things right. I brought him back. I thought it could change everything, but it didn't work at all. They still hate me."

"Well, didn't you slushy Blaine on his first day? I think that kinda sparked it."

"They're never gonna trust me. And after what I did to Santana, it's been kind of-"

"Wait, wait, back that up and start over," Melrose said, leaning forward.

Dave sighed and explained very briefly that he was basically being bullied by the Glee club.

"Wow, karma does work," Melrose said, a little amused. Dave frowned at her.

"I'm trying to make things right, but I don't see how I'm ever going to be able to," he said.

"Well, how hard exactly are you trying?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Dave put his teacup down and sighed heavily again. "I just want to feel different."

"You should tell them that. And I'm sure they will feel different too." She stopped and thought. "I am _almost_ sure. Not one hundred percent, but ninety nine point nine percent sure." Anothe pause. "Well... point five." She shrugged. "I have no idea."

Dave ran a hand through his hair. "Forget the Glee club. Even if they stopped, I don't think I can survive in that school with everyone else, if they knew."

"Fuck everyone else!" Melrose exclaimed. "I survived, and I was alone. You can survive too. You'll have other people to back you up."

Dave was shaking his head. "After what happened to Kurt, I can't stop having nightmares. I'm so afraid of this, of all of it. I don't want to be, but I can't help it."

Melrose bit her lip. "Kurt will be fine. He's very resilient, always has been. We used to get our asses kicked all the time, when we were kids. I know this was way worse than anything that happened to us back then, but... I think he will pull through. And if he can, so can you."

Dave nodded slowly. Melrose drank the rest of her tea.

"He's your other incentive, isn't he? Like, him alone, not as part of the Glee club," she asked. Dave met her eyes, and it was evident.

"I can't-"

"I know, you can't tell him," she said. "But maybe you should. Wouldn't you feel better if you had that chance?" She shrugged her shoulders. "How bad can it be?"

"I know he's tried to help you and you just push him away. If you keep pushing him away, you're gonna miss that chance completely," she pointed out.

"I just can't..."

"You haven't tried."

Dave's eyes filled with tears.

"He hates me anyway,"

Melrose looked a little surprised.

"'Hate' is a pretty strong word. I'm sure he doesn't hate you," she said gently.

"Well, he doesn't like me. He told me himself."

"When?"

"That day that I-" he looked away, embarrassed.

"The day you kissed him."

She knew everything. Dave wasn't sure if it was comforting not to have to explain everything, or if it was horrible that she would know so much about him without him having told her any of it.

"He said he- that he wasn't into... into guys like me," he swallowed hard.

Melrose nodded in understanding. "I see. Unfortunately, you have no control over that."

"I know you think I'm pathetic," Dave said bitterly. "Slushing Blaine and all."

Melrose chuckled. "Actually, I thought it was funny. Like slushies are welcome packages for new students at McKinley."

"I've been slushied too. I know it's not pretty," he said.

"Let me ask you something," she said, leaning closer. "Are you sure it's really about him after all? Couldn't it be that you're just jealous because you long for something like what they have?"

Dave did take a moment to answer, because it felt weird to force himself to stop thinking. He suddenly knew, with all certainty, and the answer like shards of ice piercing his entrails.

"No," he said very low.

Melrose's face fell, as if she were deeply saddened.

"Oh," she said. "Ok."

There was an awkward pause. Melrose curled back against the couch. "I'm sorry," she started. "I don't know what to tell you. I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be fine, that you'll get what you want eventually, but I don't know that."

Dave looked down. "It's okay. I think I just really needed to talk to someone. I feel a little better about all this."

Melrose was suddenly deep in thought as she got up to carry the now empty teacups back to the kitchen. She came back but didn't sit down. "I think he needs to know," she said, like a suggestion.

"No, he doesn't," he replied, suddenly horrified. He wanted to mention a whole list of reason why it was a bad idea, but she waved her hands dismissively.

"He deserves to know. And you deserve the chance to tell him that."

"I can't go through that."

"Listen, I know it seems like a terrible thing to do, but if there's something you should know about Kurt, it's that he will never make you feel like anything less than you are. Not for something like this. And after you've done it, then you can start getting over it. Then you'll realize that the world doesn't end and life goes on."

Dave tried not to sigh and stared at his shoes. Melrose sat on the edge of the couch, meeting his eyes.

"Meanwhile, you've got to handle this whole issue some other way before you can hurt yourself. This fear, this pent-up anger, you have to let go of it. What you're doing to yourself is not healthy. You will not feel better until you face it. Until you let go."

She leaned toward him. "I genuinely don't dislike you, no matter what it seems. I feel bad for you, for what you have to go through. You're not the first and sadly not the last. I understand that it must be difficult, but you're not alone. Trust me. I want to help you, but you have to allow me, and others, to help you."

"I just don't know... how..." Dave choked up.

"No one does," she shrugged. "There's no formula. If there were, wouldn't it be the easiest thing? Simply follow the steps? You have to learn to let go. Believe me, you'll be fine."

Dave sniffed. He wanted to hug her or something, but he didn't think it would be good. He realized that she had barely told him one positive thing, but somehow he felt a lot better. It was nice to talk to her, to be able to be honest with someone, for the first time in a very long time.

"Thank you," he said gently. Melrose scrunched up her face.

"Oh god, I showed you compassion, didn't I? Crap," she joked.

Dave laughed, and looked surprised.

"I don't think I have laughed in a long time," he said wistfully.

"That's depressing. Although admittedly I don't feel much like laughing lately," she answered.

"No, seriously, thank you for listening," he smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you for not slamming the door in my face from the start."

"I wouldn't do that," she said, smiling back. "I'm glad we had this conversation."

He stood up, and so did she, and as he motioned to leave, she rubbed his arm in a way that again made him want to hug her. But he just opened the door and waved goodbye.

"This isn't over, though. Bye," she said, before closing the door.

Dave stood there for a moment, feeling a bit miserable again, as he wondered what she meant by that.

* * *

><p>Talking to Melrose barely made anything better for him, once he was back at school. It just felt like things were getting worse.<p>

On Friday, he was slammed into the lockers twice, by Puck, Sam and Mike, and he had his books constantly knocked out of his hands by Lauren Zizes, Brittany, Santana, even Mercedes couldn't resist once.

Wherever he went, there were cold stares from the girls, and menacing looks from the boys. They looked ready to pounce as soon as he let his guard down.

In chemistry he was paired up with Quinn Fabray. He sighed in frustration when he saw her automatically grimace. She spent the whole class reading the instructions from the book, as if she were talking to no one in particular. No matter how nice he was to her, she was just cold and uninviting.

"What's it going to take for you to believe me that I had nothing to do with what happened to Kurt?" he whispered when they were almost done.

She turned on the Bunsen burner suddenly and quickly, causing Dave to jump back in surprise, since he was leaning on the table right next to it.

"What do you expect? You bully him into misery, you threaten to kill him, he leaves, then comes back, and suddenly he is attacked and you're the only witness. Seriously, if you were in my position, what would you believe?"

Dave decided to keep quiet for the rest of the class.

He had to do something to get into everyone's good graces. Somehow.

If he was going to convince anyone of his innocence, he had to request someone else's help.

* * *

><p>Blaine sat alone in the cafeteria, pushing his food around the plate distractedly.<p>

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

He looked up at the source of the voice. Dave Karofsky stood in front of him, holding his lunch tray.

Blaine didn't know what to say.

"Please?" Dave added quietly.

Sensing the desperation in his voice, Blaine gave an almost imperceptible nod. Dave sat down before he had a chance to change his mind. Truth be told, Dave almost changed his mind too. He didn't expect Blaine to be any more welcoming than Quinn or any of the Glee kids had been.

"How's Kurt?" he asked, forcing the words out of his mouth. He knew Blaine probably wouldn't be so open with him. In fact, it seemed to take Blaine a whole minute to decide whether to share anything with him or not.

"Physically, he's recovering," he said dryly, and that was enough.

"That's good, right?"

"Whatever," Blaine muttered, leaning his head on his hand. Cool and confident Blaine was apparently not so cool at the moment.

"What do you want, Dave?" he asked.

Dave cleared his throat and tried to speak without his voice wavering.

"I don't expect you to forgive me for everything, but I know you believe me that I'm not responsible for what happened."

"I no longer know what to believe," Blaine said in a bored tone, still staring at his food.

Dave sighed, racking his brain for something to say.

"You were once willing to help me," he said. Blaine finally looked up at him and frowned.

"I was trying to help Kurt, actually."

"So you've never had any interest in helping me?"

"You obviously didn't want any help."

Dave tried to think of how to apologize in any other way, but Blaine put his fork down and sighed.

"Let me ask you something, and you have to be completely honest. Whatever your answer is, I don't care. It's a start at being honest with yourself."

Dave felt awkward now. He didn't expect Blaine would want to continue talking. He half expected him to pick his stuff up and leave the table.

"Why did you kiss Kurt?" Blaine asked. "Did you want to know what it was like to kiss a guy? Or did you want to kiss _him_?"

Suddenly Dave regretted very much having decided to talk to Blaine here in the cafeteria. He was suddenly very aware that there were a lot of people around, and that at least someone had to be staring.

"I'm not going to judge you," Blaine said. "Remember I've been through the same."

Dave knew that if he answered 'none of your business', it would either make Blaine leave the table, or he would just see right through his act.

Blaine, however, did not wait for an answer, and he crossed his arms on top of the table.

"It's a complicated thing, you see, because it might have helped you realize something about yourself, even if you're still not coming to terms with it. As much as it pained you, it was your first step toward self-discovery. On the other hand, Kurt already knew who he was, and he was proud of it, and you robbed him of his first kiss."

Dave's breath hitched in his throat, and he looked down, embarrassed. He hadn't known that. When he kissed Kurt, it had been an impulse. Ever since then, he had never stopped to consider what that moment had meant, because he tried not to think about it ever. All he could really remember was Kurt pushing him away, looking horrified. And then almost uncontrollable anger.

Blaine leaned his head on his hand again and sighed.

"Look, whatever happened is in the past," he said.

"Not to your friends," Dave replied. "Not to Finn, not to any of those guys."

"They don't know what it's like."

Blaine suddenly leaned forward, meeting Dave's eyes again. The anger and resentment were still there, but there was also something that Dave could not make out; maybe it was pity.

"I know you think it's horrible, but what you're doing to yourself is much worse. You're hiding; you're lying to yourself," Blaine said.

"That day, do you know why Kurt followed you into the locker room and confronted you?" he continued. Dave bit his lip.

"You told him to."

"Yes. I told him to have courage, to not run away from the bullies, like I did," Blaine said. "And that is why, even knowing that _you_ would be here, with your unresolved issues and your anger, he came back. And that's also why I followed him. Because I didn't want to be a coward anymore. I wanted to be brave, like him. We would have friends here. And we would have each other."

Dave nodded in understanding. He wanted to hate Blaine, he felt so much dislike toward him, so much envy, but the way he spoke, Dave felt compelled to listen, to trust.

He suddenly felt aware of someone's eyes upon him. He looked up and noticed Finn, Sam and Puck, standing in the lunch line, looking over at his table, nudging each other, and they didn't look too pleased. Dave thought he better talk fast, because he had a feeling they would be interrupted.

"How do I know if I'm ready?" he asked.

Blaine stared at the table for a moment, and shrugged. "That's the thing; you might never feel ready. But you _have_ to do it. Just remind yourself that nothing is worse than hiding."

"And then what?"

Blaine breathed deeply. "And then you start looking forward to the day when everything finally starts looking up."

"Ahem."

Sam and Finn appeared behind Blaine, and sat at either side of him, putting their trays down with a rattle. Their eyes were on Dave, unwavering, demanding.

"Can we help you?" Sam said calmly but menacingly.

"Are you lost?" Puck asked just as dangerously, appearing next to him.

"I was just leaving," Dave said meekly, picking up his tray. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt. He cast one last look at Blaine, who seemed to be holding his breath, and pushed his chair back and walked away. Puck took his seat across from Blaine, and turned in the chair to watch Dave leave, as if to make sure he was gone. Blaine sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

Dave dropped his tray off at the trash bins, even if he didn't have a bite at all to eat. He didn't feel like sitting alone at another table. He couldn't sit in the same room as those guys right now. They genuinely intimidated him. Glancing back at them, he saw Sam clapping Blaine in the back, and all the boys talking and looking concerned, to which Blaine just shook his head dismissively and returned to playing with his food.

He understood what Blaine and Melrose were telling him. That he was more alone now that he would be if he came out. The way that the Glee club kids stood up for both Kurt and Blaine, it spoke volumes about the kind of people they were, how tightly knit their group was. If only they knew, they would not treat him the way they had been treating him lately. Or so he hoped.

The ones who would stand up for him in support would likely be them. Seeing Finn, Puck and Sam defending Blaine, it was clear that they cared for him, and it had nothing to do with his sexuality. He was their friend, and they would do anything for him.

But he had something else to get out of the way, before he could be so confident. He knew now, more than ever, that he just had to take the leap; he had nothing to lose anymore. All he wanted was some peace of mind.

* * *

><p><em>Holy crap, this chapter came out really long... <em>

_May I apologize for the Glee kids' unorthodox method of pushing Dave's buttons, and for Melrose's angsty bitchiness. Also for the excessive use of references to Breakfast at Tiffany's (to be honest, the Melrose I know is truly a modern-day Holly Golightly. She didn't have a nameless cat, though, but she did have a ginger cat, and that's creepily close for me. Its name was Claude)._

_Also, my headcanon for Blaine's father is not of a hateful man, but a man who simply has trouble expressing his emotions, which, in such an emotional situation, such as dealing with his son's homosexuality, might come across as being cold. In my head, Mr. Anderson has been at odds with Blaine since he transferred to McKinley, because he thinks it's crazy that his son would put himself in harm's way like that, especially considering that he was already attacked once. I think of him more as a overprotective father whose intentions are grossly misunderstood by his son, because of his inability to show his feelings._

_Anyway, I can't wait to see him in Season 3, and I hope that I'm somewhat right in my presumptions. _

_Thanks for reading. Feel free to review, share your thoughts with me._

_-Vale_


	16. Chapter 16

_So, it's been a while... Besides being very busy, I've been suffering from a bit of writer's block, caused by all the awesomeness of the new season. I can't even deal with all the Klaine happening, and don't even get me started with the spoilers going around... I can't stop listening to Arcade Fire's "In the backseat", I keep thinking it would be the best song ever to have playing in the background during THAT scene._

_Anyway, after this one, there's only two more chapters left. I'm a little angry at myself, for taking so freaking long, because the ending has been written practically since I began this story, and yet I never seemed to be able to get there. But it's finally happened. It's all structured, I know what's going to happen and how, and I'm not changing it, and in the next two chapters, I will have my long-awaited resolution. You have no idea how long I've waited and how badly I want this resolution._

_Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, the writers, and FOX. _

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

After moping around her decidedly crummier apartment for most of the weekend (going out only to buy cigarettes, beer and Fruit Loops), Melrose woke up near noon on Monday, and decided that she was done moping. At least for a while.

So she took an hour-long shower, put on the only clean clothes she could find (a floral dress for the end of autumn, not exactly the most weather-appropriate, but it would have to do), had a long debate with herself in front of the kitchen sink, and finally grabbed her keys and her coat, and left.

* * *

><p>At noon, Kurt was released from the hospital. While Burt took care of discharge documents and insurance forms outside at the reception desk, Carole, Finn and Blaine tried to get Kurt dressed.<p>

"Who on Earth picked this out?" Kurt asked, overlooking the outfit laid out for him with uncertainty.

"Yeah, it's random, but you can change when we get home. Just get dressed," Finn explained.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"Well, at least I tried."

"Carole, you would've done a better job," Kurt said.

"I hardly think so. I'm used to flannel shirts and jeans that Finn and your dad seem to be so fond of," Carole shook her head.

"Come on, it's only for a little while," Blaine said.

"This is so embarrassing," Kurt muttered when he had to go into the bathroom with Carole, who would help him put his clothes on.

Finn and Blaine exchanged a look. They were both kind of excited that Kurt was finally going home, even though he still wasn't one hundred percent okay; but they sort of wished Kurt would seem more relieved.

"Now what's this?" Kurt asked when all his stuff was packed and it was time to go.

"Hospital policy, Mr. Hummel. We take you to the entrance and then you can walk the rest of the way," said the nurse, Eric, gesturing to the wheelchair.

"Can't I just walk beside it?" Kurt pleaded. Nurse Eric shook his head.

"Kurt, your ribs are still healing, it'll take you forever to get out of here. And you're still woozy from the medication and from being practically bedridden, you could fall over or something," Carole said.

Kurt got on the wheelchair with a groan, more from the embarrassment than the pain.

It was perfectly understandable that Kurt would be so cranky; he was still in considerable discomfort, and he had spent almost ten days in a hospital. Not even his friends visiting him all weekend helped to cheer him up. He hated hospitals with a passion. How was he expected to rest and get better, when he couldn't even sleep well, what with nurses coming in at all hours of the night to take his temperature incessantly?

They loaded the car and Blaine's car with some of the flower arrangements that survived the ten days, even though Kurt insisted that they just throw them out. Carole refused, promising to make a nice arrangement for Kurt's room with any flowers she could rescue.

The car ride was mostly silent, with Burt speaking up every once in a while, telling them what the doctor had told him. He continued giving everyone instructions at random until they were home.

"And I'm gonna go get a walkie-talkie set I keep... somewhere in the house... where is it?... So you can use it when you need something, I don't want you walking up and down the stairs unnecessarily," he said, as he and Blaine led Kurt up to his room. Blaine put Kurt's bag on the couch in the corner.

"Okay, dad," Kurt said quietly, looking around his room.

"Or... you could just send me a message with your cellphone. In case I don't find the walkie-talkies."

"Sure."

"Now, is there anything you need right now?" Burt asked.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You don't have to take any medication right now?"

"No, dad."

There was an awkward silence. Burt rubbed his hands together.

"All right, well... I'll come get you when lunch is ready, or maybe I should bring it up for you, so you don't have to walk downstairs."

"Whatever."

Burt was a little taken aback at Kurt's sudden aloofness. He scratched his head and sighed.

"Okay, well, I'll go get that walkie-talkie set, and I'll bring it to you."

"I'm gonna go too," Blaine said, "I skipped the last three periods, but maybe I'll still make it to Glee practice." He motioned to give Kurt a kiss, but it would've been too awkward in Burt's presence, so he just pecked him on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later."

Kurt just turned to his bag, unzipping it with his good hand to begin unpacking. Burt followed Blaine out of the room and closed the door. He sighed deeply again, with his hand still on the doorknob. Blaine, who had also been holding his breath, let it out slowly, feeling the tension ebbing away, but not completely. He wanted to stay, he wished he could stay. Maybe he should.

"Blaine, son," Burt started, turning to Blaine and putting an arm around his shoulders. They headed toward the stairs. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've-"

There was a clank and a crash and the sound of many things falling heavily to the floor, and it all came from within Kurt's room. Burt and Blaine looked at each other in alarm, and ran back in.

Kurt was throwing things. He had tossed everything in the bag, and was now grabbing random items from his desk and hurling them angrily at the walls. A porcelain vase smashed into bits of white that rained onto the couch. His alarm clock came apart near the closet.

"Kurt!"

"Kurt, stop!"

Burt grabbed his son's hand and stopped him just before he could smash a framed picture of a newborn Kurt nestled in his mother's arms. Kurt struggled against his father's grip, but stopped, his anger quickly disappearing, only to be replaced by despair. He started crying, crumpling to his knees, Burt unable to hold him up on his feet.

Blaine knelt in front of him, shocked as he watched Kurt lose it. It was devastating to see him like this, this boy who used to ooze confidence and poise, suddenly losing it. He cried bitterly, his body racked with sobs, his face contorted with pain that was as much physical as it was mental.

"Let it out, son, come on," Burt said, his voice grave.

"I'm just so... tired... I'm so tired..." Kurt barely managed to say, his breath catching in his throat, his good hand clutching at his father's arms wrapped around his chest.

"I know, son, I know," Burt said, trying to hold back tears. Blaine wasn't as successful.

"You've been holding it in all this time, haven't you?" he asked, holding Kurt's hand.

"So have you," Kurt said with an accusatory tone.

"I did it for you, because I needed to be strong for you," Blaine replied.

"Well, I did it for everybody..." Kurt said, as more sobs threatened to choke him.

Blaine was suddenly hugging Kurt, and Burt was holding them both in his arms. Kurt buried his face in Blaine's neck, and Blaine could feel his breath and his tears against his skin, and the frantic beating of his heart against his chest.

They stayed like that for a whole minute, until they could feel Kurt's sobs subsiding, and he calmed down completely.

"You should never feel like you need to hide what you're feeling, Kurt. Not in a situation like this," Burt said, softening his grip on Kurt and kissing the top of his head. "You _need_ to let it out."

"I'm sorry I left Dalton, dad," Kurt muttered, fresh tears spilling over. "I should've stayed. We both should have. Mr. Anderson's right. It was stupid. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Blaine."

Blaine rubbed his arm comfortingly. Burt sniffed and shook his head.

"No, son, I'm sorry for making you feel like that was the only solution for anything," he said. "I just... don't know what to do most of the time. I wish there was a way I could protect you, forever."

"Dad, is it okay if Blaine stays with me for a while?" Kurt asked sheepishly. "I really don't feel like being by myself."

Burt was silent for a moment, and then he shrugged. "Well, if it's okay with Blaine, then I guess he can," he said, but with a hint of uncertainty in his tone, like he was trying to tell Kurt to be careful.

Blaine nodded, squeezing Kurt's good hand.

"I'll go tell Carole you'll be joining us for lunch. You let me know if you need anything, okay?" Burt said, as he and Blaine helped the battered boy to his feet. He turned to leave, closing the door behind him. It was as if he wanted to leave quickly, before he could change his mind.

Blaine stared at Kurt for a moment, the silent tears, the mournful look, and he hated himself for being so incapable of fixing that, of undoing everything.

"Are you feeling better?" Blaine asked. Kurt swallowed hard.

"I'm exhausted."

Blaine was still holding Kurt's hand, and gave it a gentle tug. "We could take a nap, then."

Kurt climbed onto the bed with difficulty, and sat there, while Blaine took his shoes off and climbed beside him.

"I'm sorry I blew up like that," Kurt sniffed.

"Another second and you might have, literally," Blaine said. "I can't believe you kept all that inside."

"I guess I was trying to convince myself that everything was going to be okay," Kurt replied.

"It is going to be okay, but not if you're bottling your feelings like that."

"What about you?" Kurt asked.

Blaine took a deep breath. "Well, last weekend, my mother had the misfortune of coming home to find me in a right state. I'm sure my father found out about it later. But I did feel slightly better."

Kurt nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the bedspread. Blaine caressed his fingers.

"I've been meaning to tell you," Kurt started sheepishly, "your parents visited me on Thursday."

"I know. My mom told me," Blaine said dismissively. "And I've been meaning to apologize for whatever my dad might have said."

Kurt was now shaking his head.

"Your dad cares about you, you know," he said.

"I do," Blaine answered, but maybe he didn't sound all that convinced. "Speaking of caring dads, I can't believe your dad just left us alone in your room, voluntarily," he said with a smirk, hoping to make Kurt laugh. He only smiled.

"What, you think he's going to regret it?"

Blaine chose not to reply, and he cupped Kurt's face and leaned in to kiss him. It was long and sweet, and it reminded him of their first kiss, only it mingled with the saline tears on Kurt's lips, as they had trickled down his cheeks and to the corners of his mouth. He'd been wanting to do that all weekend.

As Kurt kissed him back, he felt some of the tension ebbing away, but not entirely. It felt like there was always something tugging at his seams, trying to make him unravel. He felt worn. But the smell of Blaine's cologne, the taste of his lips, it helped to alleviate the pain, at least for a little while.

Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes. "I'm gonna stop now, because I don't want to give your father any reason to not trust me. Besides, you need to sleep."

"Yeah, sleep. I missed my bed," Kurt said, and he waited for Blaine to lean against the pillows, so then he could settle against Blaine's chest. "I missed doing this..." he muttered tiredly, his arm drapped over Blaine's chest, the cast scratching against the fabric of his shirt.

Blaine suddenly felt warm and comforted and at peace, like he hadn't felt in days. This had been the longest week of his life. But now Kurt was getting better, and he was home. As his breathing evened gradually, and Blaine just listened to it, he felt a faint glimmer of happiness.

* * *

><p>Burt came by to check on them a while later, and to tell them that lunch would soon be ready. When he poked his head in, he saw the two boys sleeping, cuddled in the bed. Kurt looked more at peace than he had the entire week at the hospital.<p>

Surely Kurt was beyond exhausted, and Blaine, with all his efforts to help and his constant worrying, must have been tired, too. He should let them sleep, there was no harm in that.

But just to be at ease, he left the door ajar.

* * *

><p>"Melrose?"<p>

Will was heading into the choir room, and suddenly noticed the girl approaching from the opposite direction.

"Hey," she said with a half smile, hands in her jacket pockets. She looked better than she had all week.

"You came," he said, smiling back. Melrose shrugged.

"Yeah, I sorta did."

"It's good to see you're not sulking around in your pajamas anymore."

"Well, I think I did enough of that to last me for a while. I was getting a little claustrophobic, too."

"So you're gonna stay for Glee practice? The kids kind of miss you. They're missing a few people right now, in fact," he said with a sigh. "Finn said that he and Blaine were staying for lunch with Kurt, to celebrate his release from the hospital. In fact, I thought that's where you'd be."

"Nah, I passed, I'm too much of a bummer right," she shook her head.

"Well, it's nice to have you back."

"Thanks, but I just need to talk to your kids, actually," she said, walking into the choir room.

Will followed. "Oh, okay. About what?" he gave her a questioning look.

"Melrose!"

Puck shot out of his chair, and in two strides he was in front of her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and lifting her off the floor.

"Ooff, okay, Puck, you can let go now," she said, the wind squeezed out of her lungs, arms pinned to her sides by his arms.

"No, please, just a little longer..." Puck said, his eyes squeezed shut and a stupid grin on his face. Lauren had to get up and drag him by the collar of his T-shirt back to his seat.

"We've missed you. French class is weird without you," Tina said.

"Yeah, I had never noticed how shrill Miss Moreau's voice was, until now," Artie added.

"Kids, I've only been gone for four days, you can't possibly miss me that much already," Melrose rolled her eyes, but she was trying not to smile.

"We all I like you much better, even with the chain-smoking," Rachel said.

"I appreciate it."

"Are you here to help us with Glee? Or are you teaching another subject?" Quinn asked.

"Oh no, I'm not suited for anything else, really. Unless you'd like to learn how to make shoes out of milk cartons. A hobo in Paris taught me. Might actually come in handy someday."

The kids exchanged weird looks. Melrose took a deep breath. "Actually, I'm just here to talk to you all," she started.

"Is something wrong? Is it about Kurt?" Rachel asked.

"Kind of," Melrose replied. Will leaned against the piano, staring at her curiously.

Melrose looked around as if making sure they were all paying attention.

"Kids," she began tentatively, "you have to stop picking on Dave Karofsky."

The statement was met with frowns of confusion and outrage.

"What? Why?" Puck asked, or rather demanded.

"Wait, how did you know?" Mike said.

"What's this about Karofsky?" Will spoke up, even more confused.

"They've been sort of bullying him because they still think that he might be somehow responsible for what happened to Kurt," she explained briefly.

"And you think he's not? Are you absolutely sure?" Sam interjected. Melrose shook her head.

"Even if he were implicated, it's not _your_ place to persecute him. You're going to get in trouble."

"How did you even know we've been doing anything?" Artie asked.

Melrose shrugged comically. "A little bird told me?"

"You can talk to birds?" Brittany asked. Melrose blinked at her.

"No, honey, it's just a way of saying that I didn't want to reveal my sources. Look, it was Miss Pillsbury and coach Beiste. They thought that I might be able to persuade you to stop." She knew they wouldn't think that Dave had actually come to her for help.

"This is a load of crap, Melrose," Puck stood up.

"Puck, watch it," Will warned him.

"Sorry, but look, Melrose, Mr. Schue, we were just putting a little pressure on him, so that he'll confess to the whole truth. He's been dodgy lately, and I wouldn't put it past him that he's feeling guilty now."

"What about Kurt?" Melrose asked calmly. "He said Karofsky had nothing to do with it. Don't you believe him?"

"He could be suffering from post traumatic stress disorder," Tina said. "I've read about it, the victim can sometimes completely forget an entire stressful event, because the mind blocks it."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Mike said, and some of the others nodded in agreement.

"Kurt is not suffering from P.T.S.D.," Melrose answered.

"How do you know? You're not a psychologist. And you have to admit Kurt hasn't been himself since the attack," Quinn interjected.

"Listen, Karofsky has already been in trouble before, for threatening Kurt, why would he risk getting into worse trouble now? Besides, _the police found the kids_. And now they're just getting them to confess to their crime. Case closed."

"Yeah, but don't you think it's weird that Karofsky was the only one at the scene? What was he doing in that alley? No one ever goes through there." Mike said.

"Except Kurt," Melrose pointed out.

Puck threw his arms up. "Are you actually defending Karofsky? He's a bully, always has been. He's not gonna change overnight."

"You did," Melrose pointed out again. Puck's eyes widened with outrage.

"That's not fair, Melrose," Rachel started. "Puck was never as bad as Karofsky; he never threatened to kill anyone. Besides, Karofsky has never cared much about changing, even if he has been milder lately. He quit the Bullywhips. He slushied Blaine at the beginning of the year. I think it was just a matter of time before he reverted to his old hatred for Kurt."

Melrose sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. These kids could be so dense.

"What exactly did you hear?" Sam continued. "What did coach Beiste and Miss Pillsbury see us do that they felt the need to report back to you, who by the way doesn't even work here anymore?"

Melrose narrowed her eyes. "I'm gonna pretend that didn't sting," she said very calmly. "From what I heard, you've been shoving him, slamming him against lockers, knocking down his stuff. Have you slushied him yet? Were you planning on locking him in a porta-potty too?" she asked sarcastically.

"And how is that any different than what he's done to Kurt? To all of us," Mercedes piped up.

"Oh, so it's about avenging the whole Glee club, not just Kurt," Melrose said.

"You know, this is rich coming from the person who told us that she used to do the same thing to her bullies back in the day," Artie said. "You liked to get back at them too. You glued people down to chairs, messed with their lockers. You set a quarterback's car on fire."

Melrose looked indignant. "I never said that... how did you find out?" she asked, outraged.

Will's eyes widened in surprise.

"That was you?" he whispered.

"Will, not now," Melrose snapped.

"Look, our point is, why the sudden outrage? Why would you take the side of the bully that used to torment your 'brother'?" Artie finished, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Melrose bit her lip and sighed.

"Because when I did those things, I didn't know any better," she started. "I was just an outsider and a loner. I had no friends, except Kurt, who was just a little kid, and he already had enough problems of his own. I didn't have anyone with whom I could vent out my frustrations, so I acted them out."

"My glee club wasn't like yours. In my days, we didn't have football jocks and cheerleaders and asians and nerds and gays and divas and jews all cooped up in the choir room, singing and performing. We were the basic outcasts, getting slushied every other day, and it was pretty much "every man for himself", rather than the Musketeers thing you guys have going on. You guys are actually a team."

She looked at each of their faces in turn, these kids who had welcomed her into their little club without question. These kids who had become the closest thing to friends that she had ever dreamed of having inside the school.

"I wish I'd had someone to tell me that seeking that kind of revenge was not going to make it any better. I certainly didn't feel any better afterwards." She chuckled. "Besides, all it did was make them angrier and strike back harder."

"You're doing to Karofsky the same thing he did to all of you," she continued. "How does that make you any better than him? How does that improve things?"

There was a pause. Puck and Sam exchanged a look.

"This isn't about us, okay? It's about Kurt," Puck said stubbornly.

"Kurt said it wasn't Karofsky, and unlike you guys, I believe him," she retorted. "He wouldn't lie to his family, about this. He wouldn't lie to all of you. That's not Kurt, he's better than that."

Another silence followed. Most of the girls looked rather relieved, like they had been waiting for someone to talk some sense into them. However Sam looked unsure, and Puck was still frowning.

"I think Dave has had enough," Melrose continued before she could get interrupted by one of the boys. "I believe he's sorry for what he's done. And I trust that he had nothing to do with what happened. In fact, if he did stop the real attackers from actually killing Kurt, then I owe him a lot of gratitude."

Puck's expression softened, and Santana's lips parted slightly, like she was quietly gasping in surprise.

Will was nodding thoughtfully behind Melrose. It suddenly made so much sense why Melrose came in here with an argument to defend Kurt's former bully. He just hoped Melrose was right. And he hoped that the kids would finally agree on it.

He wished he had known what was going on; he would never condone his students to bully another student, just out of revenge. Somehow Melrose had known, and she had decided it was important enough to confront her only friends about it.

Melrose began again. "Look, I'm not forcing you to do anything, but I hope that you will change your minds about this. You don't have to forgive him, you don't have to like him. But you have to give him a chance. He's tried to become someone who is not completely detestable. He worked on it, remember? He brought Kurt back, with Santana's help. Maybe he's not completely a lost case."

The kids' silence was still hesitant. Melrose's voice softened.

"I'm not asking you as a teacher, I don't want you to think that I'm just being neutral. Cuz I'm not, I don't give a shit, I don't even work here anymore," she said dismissively. "I'm asking you as a friend."

Santana smiled.

"Don't do this to him," Melrose pleaded. "You might regret it."

Puck sighed long and loud. Lauren rubbed his back.

Melrose looked at Will out of the corner of her eye.

"Was that dramatic enough?" she pretended to whisper.

"I think we got your point. Or at least I hope so," he said, glancing at the kids.

"I feel like a bitch," Brittany suddenly said.

"No, come on! You were just trying to do _something_. And it shows that you're all really good, loyal friends," Melrose pointed out.

"It's been a really emotional, really long week," Rachel stated.

"Tell me about it," Melrose chuckled. "Not you, Will, you shut up," she said preventively. "I just think it's time we put all of this past us, so when Kurt comes back here, you can all help him move past it too. It's gonna be a lot harder for him," she said.

The kids nodded together. Quinn was smiling with relief, noticing that Sam was less tense now.

"You're not gonna give us detention or something, Mr. Schue?" Mercedes asked.

"Not unless you kids don't stop this persecution immediately. But I trust that you will," Will said.

"Well, I've got to go. I'm gonna continue spreading the joy. Preferably at the Hummels, where there is food," Melrose said, and suddenly she seemed eager to leave. Like she was afraid to stay.

Puck shot out of his seat again and picked up Melrose again with a back-breaking bear hug.

"I thought you were gonna hate me now," Melrose said in a strained voice.

"Nah, you smell of jasmine and cigarettes, I could never hate you," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut. Lauren had to pry him off again.

* * *

><p>"I'm really proud of you," Will said, following Melrose out of the choir room after she said goodbye.<p>

"Really? Why?" she asked.

"You stepped out of your own misery long enough to help someone. Someone who, in many people's minds, doesn't deserve this kind of help," he said. Melrose shrugged.

"I wasn't only trying to help Dave Karofsky, I really didn't want the kids to get into any trouble."

"Which proves that you're a lot more mature than you give yourself credit," Will said. Melrose bit her lip dubiously and looked everywhere but at Will.

"I don't know about that. I just did what I had to do."

"Precisely," he winked at her.

She seemed to think for a moment, like wondering if he could be right.

"I know Emma and Shannon didn't really say anything to you," Will continued. "They would've told me first, if they hadn't thought that I would know already."

Melrose eyed him curiously. She wondered if he was hinting that he knew who had told her. But she shook her head and smiled.

"Was it Blaine?" Will asked. Melrose stared in shocked amusement, surprised by how clueless he was.

"Pfft, not even close," she laughed.

"Then who?"

"I can't tell you," she said, whispering in his ear. "See, the thing is, I don't want my psychic powers to be known to the government. They will force me into their payroll and never let me go."

"Cute," Will grimaced.

"Better than the mopey mess back in Melrose place, though, right?"

"Oh definitively."

Melrose shifted from one foot to the other, like a bashful kid, and smiled. She was actually starting to feel a lot better. She was glad she did this.

"Oh, and another thing," Will started. "Car fire? Really? I thought that was an urban legend."

"There was never enough evidence, and no one got hurt. Time to put it behind us," Melrose said quickly and through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, I'm just having trouble handling all the irony," Will snickered.

"I'd like to be ironic to your hair right now," Melrose said, then pretended to be shocked at herself. "Whoa! I come back for a few minutes, and already I feel Sue's vibes going into my young and impressionable soul. I'm gonna go before I try to push someone down a flight of stairs. Bye!" she said.

"You're seriously not gonna stay for Glee practice?" he asked.

"You can handle it. You're not doing such a bad job all by yourself, you know," she smirked and waved goodbye. Will shook his head and chuckled to himself before going back into the choir room.

* * *

><p>Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He held a manila folder in his hands, and inside were pictures.<p>

"I can't do this," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes, you can," Burt said, not forcefully.

"It's okay, take your time," detective Owens said.

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His hands started to shake a little.

"Dude, just get it over with," Finn whispered.

"Finn, leave him alone. This is hard," Carole said, putting a hand on her son's shoulder.

"Sorry, I just think, it's like a band-aid, right? You pull it off quickly, so it doesn't hurt so much," Finn said. Kurt looked hesitant.

Detective Owens had called earlier on Tuesday, after being informed that Kurt had been released from the hospital. He requested to see Kurt and show him pictures of the attackers, which were taken once they were brought in for questioning. All Kurt had to do was confirm their identities.

It was proving hard enough, since Kurt couldn't even bring himself to open the folder.

He just couldn't muster the courage for it. It was awful enough to see them in his head all the time, he remembered their faces too well.

"It's okay. I can come by tomorrow," detective Owens finally said, after ten minutes of waiting.

"No, wait. Just... give me a second," Kurt said quickly, his breath shuddering a bit.

Everyone waited patiently in silence, as he tried to gather his wits. It would only be for one moment, and then he could go back to trying to erase those faces from his mind.

He pulled the cover open slowly. There were two pictures clipped to the folder by the edges. Each one had two frames. The pale blond boy, with a white strip on the bridge of his bruised nose, and the dark-skinned boy, both sullen-faced, staring straight ahead in one frame, and standing in profile in the other.

Kurt closed his eyes again and nodded vigorously, slapping the folder closed again. He swallowed hard.

"Yep, that's them."

"Are you sure?" Owens asked.

"It's not like I'd forget so easily."

"Yeah, and what are the chances of another blond guy named Jacob with a broken nose?" Finn said.

The detective ignored him. "I'd like for you to look at them again, if you could. Just once more."

Bracing himself, Kurt popped the folder open once more and willed his eyes to focus on the pictures.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he affirmed, closing the folder again.

"Well, that's good. Mr. Karofsky confirmed it too," Owens said, taking the folder from Kurt.

"Oh, good," Kurt said, dropping his hands heavily on top of his blanket.

"Karofsky's been down to the police station?" Finn asked.

"Yes, a couple of times. He's actually been very helpful."

Finn blinked a couple of times and didn't say anything else.

"Well, I think that's about it for now," detective Owens said, standing up from Kurt's desk chair and heading toward the door. "We're going to need a recorded statement sometime this week or the next, depends on how the case goes. And then we'll let you know when the case goes to court."

"I thought you said this wouldn't be going to court," Burt asked.

"This is a juvenile case. The defendants will probably try to reach a settlement, but we have enough evidence to warrant a sentence. It's what's best anyway. You will be cited for court, but between you and me, I don't think it will be too complicated. They're probably going to get a minimum of 10 months to a year of youth detention center, plus community work, and I think it should be easy to get a restraining order for both."

Kurt's stomach churned. This was proving to stretch on forever. He already dreaded the idea of going down to the police station to give a recorded statement; it was even more terrifying to think that he would have to see them again, in person.

"Don't worry, it'll be over before you know it," detective Owens said to him. He must have seen that Kurt's was trying really hard not to cry. The detective thanked them for their time and left.

"Come on, Finn, time for school," Carole said, and Finn got up grudgingly from his spot next to Kurt and groaned all the way downstairs. Carole glanced back at her husband before stepping out too.

"You okay, buddy?"

Kurt looked up at his father's concerned face.

"I don't know," he mumbled, his voice a little hoarse.

"What don't you know?"

Kurt sighed, and it hurt in his abdomen. Hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "I can't go. If they call me to court, I'm-" he said, shaking his head. "I don't want to do this anymore. I thought I could, but... I just want to forget about it. I don't care anymore."

Burt bypassed the desk chair and sat next to his son on the bed.

"You can't run away from this, Kurt. This happened to you, and you have to start getting over it, but not by burying the incident. You have a chance of getting justice for it, you take it. If those kids did this to you, then you have to make them pay. Maybe not out of revenge, but as a lesson in respect and tolerance. They're just gonna have to learn it the hard way. Send a message to all the bullies out there, that at least this time, they don't get to get away with it."

He patted his son's arm comfortingly. "If you don't really care anymore, which I doubt, then don't do it for yourself. Do it for all the kids who get bullied too, all the kids who get hurt, the ones who die and don't get their justice."

Kurt swallowed bitterly around the lump in his throat.

"You'd do it for Blaine, right?" Burt asked.

A tear escaped from Kurt's eye. He stared up at his father and forced a smile.

"You're right, dad. You're always right."

"I am, aren't I?" Burt replied with a chuckle. He gave Kurt's hand a squeeze and got up. "Get some rest. I'll go make you some breakfast."

Kurt looked down at his hands, while Burt closed the door behind him. Once he was alone, Kurt counted up to ten, breathing deeply, then reached for the remote and switched the television and Blu-ray player on, and went back to watching "The sound of music" for the third time since last night. He squeezed a pillow to his chest and relaxed, while listening to Julie Andrews sing about her favorite things.

It was one of his favorite films to watch to make himself feel better, when he was sick or just sad. It was hardly working this time.

He suddenly felt very small and powerless.

* * *

><p>Dave noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere. He noticed because he suddenly didn't quite feel so uneasy, as Tuesday wore on.<p>

Just the day before he had been checking around corners, glancing over his shoulder, and holding his breath whenever someone, anyone, approached him.

He was on the lookout from the Glee members, doing his best to stay out of their way.

Now, to his surprise, they didn't even seem to notice him.

In fact, they seemed to be steering clear of him. It was like they were determined to ignore him.

He was especially aware of how hard they were trying to disregard his presence, when he almost ran into Puck while coming out of a classroom; the other football player was visibly annoyed, but it was obvious that he managed to rein in any violent reaction toward Dave.

It wasn't much better, but it was an improvement. He was somewhat relieved, but it still hurt to go back to not being acknowledged at all. It felt like a step backward.

But at least he didn't have to be so afraid anymore.

Dave barely had to wonder what brought about this change, when Santana approached him in the middle of lunch, while Dave was miserably staring into his bowl of spaghetti.

"It was you, wasn't it?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Me what?"

"You told Melrose."

Dave blinked, puzzled for a moment.

"That the Glee club has been making your life hell? Sounds rather funny, doesn't it? We're giving hell to someone; other than coach Sylvester, that is."

"I... what?" Dave asked, putting down his fork and staring.

Santana put her food tray down on the table and sat across from Dave. "Melrose came by yesterday and asked us to leave you alone. She told us it was Beiste and Pillsbury who informed her of what we had been doing to you. But it was you, right?"

Dave didn't know what to say at first. He was tired of being defensive. And for once, Santana didn't sound quite like her snappy bitch-self.

"Yeah," he answered with a deep sigh.

Santana shrugged. "Hmm... as pathetic as that sounds, I have to admit I'm a bit relieved that you _finally_ got the nerve to talk to someone. I was starting to think you really didn't have any balls."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

"Anyway, in case you were wondering why suddenly the Glee club no longer cares about you enough to threow you in a dumpster, that's what happened. She got us to stop using you as our punching bag," Santana said, munching on a forkful of salad. "She gave a pretty good speech. You must have seemed pretty helpless to her if she decided to get off her ass and help you like that."

Dave suddenly felt even less hungry.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a pause.

"Why are you apologizing?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You guys still hate me."

"Since when do you care if Glee club hates you?"

"Because..." he started, but promptly looked back down. "Never mind."

"No, tell me."

"There's a reason why I actually preferred to talk to Melrose instead of you."

She chuckled. "I still can't believe you did. I saw her punch a hockey player twice her size, just for shoving Kurt. I was so certain that, with your history, you wouldn't leave her apartment alive."

"It's not like that thought didn't occur to me," he replied, laughing lightly too.

Santana put her fork down. "What exactly did she tell you?" Dave shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. I'm just glad the Glee club is not kicking my ass anymore. But you guys are never going to forgive me for everything. I've screwed up too many times."

"Again, what do we have to do with anything?" Santana frowned.

Dave spoke even lower. "I know it's just as hard for you to consider the idea of coming out in this school. But you have the Glee club. Whatever happens, they've all got your back." He dropped his hands heavily on the table. "What do I have? Nothing and no one."

He picked up his fork and continued playing with his untouched spaghetti. He could feel Santana staring at him. She made a sound like a derisive snort and started eating again.

"That's not true," she said. Dave looked up at her and rolled his eyes.

"Everything that I did, the guy I was, it's no excuse for anything. I don't think saying 'sorry' is ever going to be enough. I certainly don't expect them to ever let it go."

There was another pause, and Santana shrugged again and took a sip of her beverage.

"I know two people who might," she said. She noticed Dave frowning in confusion, and added, "Kurt and Blaine?"

Dave snorted. "Why would they? All I've done is make Kurt's life miserable, and even when I stop and he tries to help me, I just push him away. And Blaine must hate me, you've seen him, and he knows that I-" he cut himself off and bit his lip. "I just wish he'd punch me already and get it over with, maybe I'd feel different. I know he wants to."

"Does he?" Santana looked perplexed.

"He must."

"But why would he?" she said. "Think about it. You drove Kurt out of here, and sent him running to the safety of Dalton. Had it not been for you, they would've never met. And they wouldn't be together. I know it's a little twisted to see it that way, but knowing Blaine, he's probably thankful that something good came out of all this."

Dave sneered at her. "Yeah, that doesn't quite make me feel better, thanks," he muttered. "And it still doesn't change anything."

"People change. You've changed," she said.

He looked up, and suddenly it seemed to him that she was actually trying to make him feel better. She gathered her stuff on her tray as she spoke.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I know it's taken you a long time, but I'm actually starting to see a side of you that it's not so terrible. There might still be hope for you," she said, with a bit of that gentleness that usually she only reserved for Brittany. She stood up, flashed him a half smile, and carried her tray to the trash bin. Dave continued to stare at her.

He had underestimated Santana. She had just displayed a rare kindness that he was certain not a lot of people ever witnessed. She prided herself on being a bitch who tells it like it is, but she was capable of being a nice person. If she really tried. He was glad that she was trying with him.

* * *

><p>"Have your pillows always smelled like women's perfume?"<p>

Kurt turned his head slightly toward Melrose. It was Tuesday afternoon, and she had spent most of the day with him, unsuccessfully trying to cheer each other up. Kurt guessed she just wanted to be out of her apartment; since she no longer had a job, there was not much to do besides mope around elsewhere.

Kurt was glad for the company, but now he was starting to get sleepy from all the medication. As he lay down flat on top of the covers, he hoped she wouldn't take it as a hint for her to leave; maybe she'd stay and take a nap with him. He didn't want to be alone.

"Not really," he said , as he watched her bury her face into the pillow. She inhaled deeply a few times and seemed to think hard.

"What is that, Bulgari? Chanel?"

"It's Nina Ricci," he answered. "It was my mom's fragrance."

Melrose smiled and nodded. "It smells awesome," she said breathily.

Kurt smiled back tiredly. "I kept it after she died. I spray it on my pillows when I don't feel well. It's supposed to be comforting."

Melrose blinked at him.

"That's a good idea," she said, draping an arm over the pillow she had been sniffing, and propping her head up on the other hand. "Does it work?"

"Usually it would," he replied. "These past few years I think I've used up most of what was left."

Melrose smiled sadly at him. "I can imagine. Well, at least now I know what to get you for Christmas."

"Nah, I have to get over that habit," Kurt said, shaking his head lightly. Melrose shrugged.

"Everyone's got those little habits, things that we do to make ourselves feel better. I drink tea and play Debussy or Chopin. You smell your mom's fragrance on your pillows."

Kurt sighed. "I don't think it's working quite as well as it used to."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Kurt shifted carefully, folding his good hand behind his head. He ran a finger carefully over the scarring wound on the crown of his head. He dreaded the idea of having all the stitches removed on Thursday.

"Don't tell my dad or Carole, but..." he started, avoiding her eyes, "I'm a bit glad that she's not here right now."

Melrose didn't say anything, just waited for Kurt to go on.

"I know it sounds awful, but at least she can't see her son in this pitiful state. I wouldn't want her to."

There was a harsh silence, during which Melrose was staring intently at him.

"So you don't think she can see you right now?" she asked hesitantly.

Kurt looked at her.

"I don't know. Right now I really hope not."

Melrose sat up and watched Kurt, while Kurt stared up at the ceiling. The silence bore down on them, and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep with his eyes wide open.

"My dad died," she said. Kurt turned his head toward her.

"I know."

"Papa Burt told you?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "I'm sorry," he added as an afterthought. Melrose smiled ruefully.

"It's okay."

Kurt went back to staring lazily up at the ceiling. He knew there was something else in her mind.

"Remember when we used to camp out in my backyard, back in our old neighborhood?" he asked.

Melrose chuckled. "Lying in the tent with our heads sticking out, looking up at the stars?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I remember. We'd jabber on and on, and then we'd fall asleep like that. A few times we woke up with rain in our faces."

"Yeah..."

Melrose stretched out next to him, flat on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as well. They lay like that for a few minutes, in silence, with their hands folded on their chests, and this time it was Kurt who thought Melrose had drifted off to sleep.

"I'm sort of engaged."

Kurt's eyes started wandering.

"I know," he said again. Melrose tilted her head toward him slightly.

"What do you mean you know?"

"I saw the ring. On your dresser. The first time I went to your apartment. It wasn't exactly hidden."

Melrose cast her eyes down.

"I figured you would tell me about it, when you felt ready. Just like you just told me about your dad."

Her fingers suddenly found his and squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry I haven't been very honest with you," she said, her voice wavering a little.

"It's okay. I understand."

"I've just been... trying to sort it all out in my head, on my own. Because you've had your own stuff going on, especially now," she said like an apology. "But I've been so scared about everything, about you, and this stupid thing that I did."

"Hey, you can always talk to me. No matter what," he replied. "You must be exhausted."

A tear rolled down the side of Melrose's face, disappearing into the hairline at her temple.

"I'm not like you, Kurt," she said, like it hurt to even talk. "I can't wear my heart on my sleeve. I can't. It feels like dropping a suit of armor. I'm not good at being vulnerable. I'd rather pretend that everything is okay. It beats that horrible sensation, that emptiness in my stomach, like needing to throw up and lie on the floor and never move again."

"I know that sensation," he said sadly. Melrose let out a long, controlled breath.

"Lately when I think about it, I just feel worse. I don't know, maybe it's finally sinking in that I screwed up yet again, this time more fantastically than ever before."

"So what happened?"

"Well, I started thinking that maybe it was too good to be true," she said gently. "That, like all good things, it was bound to come to an end. And I didn't want to be there when it happened. I'm not good at picking up the pieces."

"You think too much," Kurt said, not unkindly.

"I do. I was also afraid of being tied down," she admitted shamefully.

"I think most people are," he said sympathetically.

"But Terry is not like other guys. He's a great companion. It's like we share a brain; I can ask him about _anything_, all those questions that plague me when I'm too uncertain to answer them myself. He always seemed to have the answer."

She wiped another tear that escaped the corner of her eye. "The worse thing is I convinced myself that he was just like all the other guys, just so I wouldn't regret it, having left him. But I just started seeing again through that big fat lie." She shook her head in disbelief. "I never would've been tied down. I would've gained a companion, someone who would've journeyed with me wherever we wanted to go, to see where life would take us."

"Like Doctor Who?"

Melrose chuckled. "Yeah, like The Doctor. He's Scottish and everything."

"That sounds brilliant," Kurt said, and Melrose's face fell.

"Well it no longer exists. I lost it. All that I've got left is a ring that doesn't mean anything anymore."

Kurt shrugged. "If you're still holding on to it, it must still mean something."

"It means I'm just hanging by a thread," she sniffed. "I know now that I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. And I know I'll never live it down." She turned her head and faced him.

"Seeing you and Blaine... you guys have it. You found it, each other. " she continued.

"Promise me you'll never let each other go."

There was a seriousness that Melrose, whimsical, carefree Melrose, hardly ever displayed. Melrose, who usually brushed everything off if it was unimportant, or raged and stormed when it was somewhat relevant, was suddenly emotionally drained and exhausted, and looking for some form of reassurance.

"Speaking for myself, I don't think I ever could," Kurt said softly.

He kept thinking back to what Blaine had told him, just days before the attack; that he wouldn't know what to do if he ever lost him. It had sounded so romantic back then; it was suddenly something very real and scary.

"Was it stupid, Mel?" he asked, almost as a whisper. "Were we idiots for thinking that we could actually be happy? That things would change?"

Melrose twisted her body toward him and rested her chin on his shoulder, his hand still clasped in hers.

"No, Fluffy, you're not idiots. People are."

Obviously that thought didn't make either of them feel much better.

* * *

><p><em>I promise Kurt will start feeling better soon. Everyone will. Everyone deserves a happy ending.<em>

_As you can probably tell, I did some very choppy research on the judicial process for juvenile cases. Give me a break, I live in Spain, our system is very different. I did the best I could._

_Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to review. I'd like to know what you think._

_/ Valentina_


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry for the long wait, been extremely busy, and this chapter has been one of the toughest to write, I'm not good at writing conclusions. _

_I would like to apologize in advance for all the cheese in this chapter. And for the length. Also, if I made any mistakes regarding football terminology, apologies in advance. I did my best at researching, but still, I'm Spanish, and we have a different kind of football over here. To be honest, the only real american football games I've ever watched are in films and television shows. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuck, and FOX. _

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

Friday morning, Kurt woke up with a start. There was a whirring noise as his father pulled the curtains open, and sunlight flooded the bedroom, making Kurt wince and shield his eyes with his hand. Burt put a glass of water on the bedside table, and handed Kurt a bunch of various pills.

"You're going to school," he said, not unkindly, but with a finality that invited no questions or protests. Kurt let out a long, resigned breath.

* * *

><p>Blaine waited impatiently on a bench in the parking lot. Finn had called and told him Burt was forcing Kurt to come to school today, because it was time to face the real world again.<p>

"Dr. Linus agreed it was best, Kurt shouldn't be bedridden anymore. And as long as he takes his meds and takes it easy, then it's okay to go back to school," Finn had explained over the phone. "If he starts feeling bad, or if he's in pain, then we take him home."

So now Blaine was waiting for them. He was excited as well as nervous about Kurt coming back. Maybe coming back to school, and especially Glee club, might help Kurt out of his funk. But what if he felt bad in the middle of class? The last thing Kurt wanted was for people to see just how bad he was.

He saw the car approaching, and stood up. Finn parked in a disabled space like it was no big deal. He got out of the car quickly and waved to Blaine.

"You know you're not supposed to park there without a sticker," Blaine pointed out. Finn ignored him.

"He's in a better mood than I expected. It took a bit to get him into the car, though. That's why we're a bit late," he said as they rounded the car and opened Kurt's door.

"May I take your arm, sir?" Blaine said in an exaggeratedly chivalrous manner, holding out his arm to Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Please just don't treat me like a baby all day. I don't think my ego can take it," he said with a pained look, but he couldn't help smiling a little at Blaine. He managed to get out of the car without falling over, wincing a bit as his feet hit the pavement, a hand at his abdomen. He was dressed in a simple light blue shirt and dark trousers, and his grey peacoat, and generally looked rather toned down, which either meant he was still not in the mood even for planning outfits, he didn't want to ask anyone's help for getting dressed, or he really didn't want to draw attention to himself. He only wore one of his designer scarves, a blue patterned one, to somewhat coordinate with the drab blue and white arm sling.

"You can't get angry at us for trying to be helpful," Finn said, grabbing Kurt's leather messenger bag as well as his own backpack. His brother shrugged.

Before they entered the building, Kurt took a deep breath and grabbed Blaine's hand. As soon as they walked through the doors, they felt a few stares and heard a few whispers.

"It's gonna be fine," Finn assured him, noting how Kurt's face fell a little.

"Sure, no one's gonna ogle at the boy with the messed up face and the broken arm, walking like Ozzy Osbourne," Kurt said sarcastically.

"They're just concerned," Blaine said.

"They don't give a damn."

Finn led the way down the hallway toward their lockers.

"I can walk by myself, though," Kurt said to Blaine. "You don't need to be all over me."

"But I want to," Blaine replied, patting Kurt's arm.

"Thanks, but I really don't want to draw any more attention than is necessary."

As they rounded the corner, he was met with the sight of the whole Glee club waiting for them at Kurt's locker. Turning around, Finn smiled wickedly at his brother, arms wide in a gesture of "ta-da!".

"KURT!" Brittany shouted and started jumping up and down. She held a big sign over her head that read 'WELCOME', which looked like it might have been painted by a four-year-old, but at least it was spelled correctly.

"HEY KURT!" the others echoed, and they all threw paper streamers and confetti into the air, and made a lot of noise with blowouts and plastic whistles. It looked like they had raided a kid's birthday party.

"So much for being inconspicuous, I guess?" Blaine said apologetically.

"I guess," Kurt shook his head, but Blaine noticed that Kurt was trying very hard not to smile, as some of the confetti landed on him. He pretended to be irked as he fished it out of his arm sling.

Rachel, Tina and Mercedes hugged him as carefully as they could.

"We missed you so much," Brittany said, pecking him on the cheek.

"You have no idea how awful Glee has been without you," Santana said. "Someone needs to put Rachel in her place right now, or I won't be held responsible if I accidentally give her a buzz cut."

"Hey!"

"It's good to have you back," Sam said, patting him in the back.

Quinn hugged him. "I missed you, we all did," she said.

Puck hugged Kurt too, but not as gently as the others.

"Thank you, guys, I- WHOA!" Kurt exclaimed.

"I MISSED YOU!" Puck said loudly. Kurt's eyes widened and he stood very still.

"Oh god, Puck is hugging me. Is the world ending?"

Blaine chuckled again, glad to hear Kurt making jokes.

"Puck, let him go! You're gonna hurt him!" Mercedes scolded him, tugging at Puck's t-shirt.

"He's fine, leave me alone..." Puck squeaked comically. Kurt patted him on the back.

"There, there, I missed you too. But you do know we saw each other just this weekend at my house, right?"

Puck finally let go and pouted at him. "It's not the same," he grumbled.

"Things have been a bit weird without you," Artie said, shaking Kurt's hand. "As you can see, emotions have been running wild. Particularly Puck seems to have been riding on an emotional roller-coaster."

"I know," Kurt said. "Thanks, guys, I'm very honored by your little surprise welcome party."

"_Impromptu_ surprise welcome party," Rachel corrected proudly. "We conjured it just this morning, and I must say, it was quite nice despite the little time that we had."

"I made this," Brittany said, holding her sign up again, very self-satisfied.

"I can see that," Kurt said with a smile.

"How are you feeling?" Tina asked.

Kurt managed a smile. "Better, now that I see you guys," he replied. In all honesty, it made him feel much better than he had earlier, when faced with the prospect of going back to school. He hadn't expected that seeing his friends again at McKinley would improve his mood so much.

"Clean this up or I'll shove it down your throats," Coach Sylvester's voice crackled out of her megaphone, followed by a wail of feedback. She had walked by just as Sam blew another streamer, and the colorful paper unraveled onto the floor at her feet.

She sneered at all of them and lifted the megaphone up to her mouth again. "NOW."

The kids grudgingly began to pick up their mess. Sue leaned toward Kurt to mutter in his ear.

"Welcome back, Porcelain," she said, and left. Kurt smiled and shook his head. He fixed Blaine with a knowing look.

"Is this a massive plot on your behalf to keep me happy?" he whispered, so that the others wouldn't hear. Blaine looked indignant.

"No! I had no idea they were doing this. I would've baked cookies for the occasion," he said.

"I did!" Rachel quipped, holding up a container of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. "I guess we can save them for Glee club later," she shrugged, stuffing it back in her bag.

Blaine turned back to Kurt. "Seriously, you have no idea how it's been without you. I'd say this is five times the funk they were in when you transferred to Dalton. The morale is on the floor, but it might start going up now."

Kurt sighed. "It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Tell me about it. I don't think I've ever hated school this much."

Kurt face darkened. "I'm sorry." Blaine shook his head.

"Don't be, don't say that."

"I tried not to think too often of how hard this was on you too, because it just made me feel worse."

"Forget about it. You're here now, and it's going to be fine. We're going to be fine," Blaine said, smiling at him reassuringly, and Kurt managed to smile back.

Dave Karofsky walked by just then. He did a double-take and stopped on his tracks when he saw Kurt.

"Kurt," he said, like the name came out reflexively. Like it had been surprised out of him.

Kurt and Blaine turned toward him, as did the others. Even a few random students seemed to stop and stare, like they were waiting for something to happen. The Glee boys tensed, like lions ready to pounce.

Dave hesitated when he realized he had drawn a crowd. He opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed like an eternity before he managed to get any words out.

"Good to see you're okay," he mumbled quickly.

Kurt blinked, perplexed, and cleared his throat. "Thanks..."

No one else spoke. Dave walked away, embarrassed, trying to keep his pace in check.

"Hey Dave!"

Dave stopped and turned slowly, and saw Kurt catching up with him.

"I guess I had yet to tell you... thanks," the shorter boy said. "For saving my life."

Dave only stared blankly, a little shocked. There was a very strange sensation in the pit of his stomach and in his lungs, and he couldn't breath for a moment, let alone speak. Kurt merely patted Dave's shoulder with his good hand, and gave him half a smile, big round eyes trying to communicate silently, and then walked back to his locker.

People went on their way, pretending they hadn't just dropped whatever they had been doing in order to watch the scene. The Glee kids tossed looks of confusion at Dave, but eventually went back to their conversations and picking up confetti and streamers.

Kurt grabbed some books from his locker, and Blaine helped him with them, and they headed in the opposite direction, hand in hand. Blaine threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Dave.

Still mortified, Dave ducked into the Biology classroom, anything to put it all behind. He sensed this encounter would bother him throughout the day.

* * *

><p>"Hey, look who's back!" Will exclaimed, as the Glee kids entered the choir room, Kurt in their midst. "Good to have you here, Kurt. You have been terribly missed."<p>

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Kurt said, not as enthusiastically, as his teacher gave him a gentle pat in the back.

Blaine led Kurt to a chair in the front, putting their stuff on the floor. He watched Kurt try not to wince as he sat down. Kurt had been feeling fine most of the morning, but probably climbing up and down stairs and sitting in stiff chairs all day had worn him down a bit.

Not to mention, it had also been a very long day of dodging glances and comments. Blaine had the feeling some nasty rumors had been making their way around the school, even though the real story about what happened to Kurt was also publicly known. That obviously didn't stop malicious people from making stuff up. Blaine didn't know what the rumors were, but he didn't want to know, and he certainly didn't want Kurt to find out either. The others were keen on it, too; in fact, the boys had gone back into Secret Service mode, and practically escorted Kurt everywhere.

At least they only had Glee club now, and then they could go home.

Kurt looked around the choir room longingly, as if he had been absent for months.

Will waited for everyone to sit down. "Since you're still recovering, we're not going to do much," he explained to Kurt. "We want you to be able to participate, but we don't want you to hurt yourself."

Blaine guessed that Mr. Schue expected, but now that he was back, he guessed Will expected them to continue rehearsals for Sectionals, which were already next week, but he didn't know how to go about it without hurting Kurt's feelings.

In any case, it seemed Kurt sensed that already. "It's okay, I can sit here and just be your audience."

Rachel raised her hand. "Mr Schue, if I may take the floor for a moment..." she said, getting up without even waiting for Will to respond, as usual. "I've had something prepared for the occasion since we've all been waiting for Kurt to return. I'd like to dedicate it to him, and hopefully he'll join me. It's just a little consideration, since Sectionals are next week, and he won't get to perform with us." She smiled sympathetically at him.

Kurt rolled his eyes. Santana put her feet heavily down on the floor.

"Well, how long was that, Tina? Three minutes?" Santana said, looking at the clock in her cellphone.

"Two," Tina said, shaking her head after glancing at her watch.

"Two minutes!" Santana repeated, glaring at Rachel. "You couldn't even go _two minutes_ without bringing up the fact that he's missing Sectionals. What the hell?"

Rachel looked mortified. "No! I didn't mean to! I just... I wanted to do something nice for him."

"It would've been nice not to remind him of that one thing," Santana pointed out.

"Santana, leave her alone, she was just trying to be nice," Finn intervened.

"I'm really sorry, Kurt," Rachel said. "I didn't mean to bring it up... I'm just so frustrated."

"_You're_ frustrated?" Kurt chuckled. "It's okay, Rachel. You guys don't have to tiptoe around me. I'm bummed that I don't get to perform either. But I want you to win anyway, so I need you to practice, so we can all go to Regionals. Forget about me right now, you need to be amazing."

Blaine grinned at Kurt.

"It would've been nice if you could perform with us this time around, tho," Finn said, shrugging.

Kurt gave his brother a sympathetic smile. "Well, there's no point in dwelling on that now, is there?"

Everyone fell silent. The way he said it, it seemed so final, but it didn't make them feel better.

"The thing _is_," Sam said, breaking the silence, "we let our guard down and you got hurt. And we're sorry."

Kurt looked at his friends. "Don't be," he said. "I feel like all you guys ever do is take care of me. I can't even thank you enough for everything you've done, but I can't rely on you guys forever."

"Why not? We're your friends," Artie said.

"I know, but-"

"But you still can, at least for now," Mike interrupted.

Kurt sighed and stood up slowly. "I don't expect you to be my bodyguards 24 hours a day. It's impossible," he said. "Shit happens. But it means just as much that, even if stuff happens, I can count on you guys to help me get back on my feet. That counts as taking care of me too."

"In fact, I've been meaning to thank you all, like _we_ usually do," he walked over to the piano, and unexpectedly picked up Mr. Schue's ukulele, the one that Melrose was always strumming. He held it awkwardly, taking off the arm sling.

Blaine slid to the edge of his seat and stared at his boyfriend with a mixture of expectancy and awe.

"Melrose taught me a bit," Kurt said, since everyone looked surprised. They hadn't known he could play the piano, they certainly didn't expect him to play the ukulele. "I can't play it very well yet, I admit I never practice much, and certainly not with a cast on my arm. But let's see..."

The others seemed to hold their breaths.

"_What would you think if I sang out of tune," _Kurt started singing slowly, strumming carefully, "_Would you stand up and walk out on me..._"

Blaine's face split into a smile.

"_Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song_

_And I'll try not to sing out of key..._"

Rachel let out a mirthful laugh. Puck leapt from his seat excitedly and thundered down toward the front of the classroom, picking up an acoustic guitar.

"_Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends_

_Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends_

_Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends..._"

Brad joined him on the piano, and soon enough Puck did too.

"_What do I do when my love is away_

_Does it worry you to be alone?_"

All the kids were up on their feet, joining in the singing. Brittany and Santana put one arm around each other and swayed to the rhythm. Mike wrapped his arms around Tina, and Rachel cozied up to Finn.

"_Do you need anybody?_

_I need somebody to love_

_Could it be anybody?_

_I want somebody to love..._"

Will was watching them endearingly. It was impressive how drastically the mood had changed from one day to the next. Melrose was right; they were a team.

"_Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends_

_With a little help from my friends..._"

Blaine pecked Kurt on the cheek. Finn ruffled his hair playfully, and Kurt's smile disappeared.

"Okay, you did not just do that," he said, glaring at his brother before running a hand to try to fix his hair again. "As if my face was not enough, now you're messing up my hair too..." he grumbled under his breath. Finn laughed.

Will clapped his hands to get their attention.

"Okay, kids! Back to rehearsal!"

* * *

><p>That night, the game was going somewhat badly.<p>

"Focus, Karofsky!"

At least for Dave, it did.

The game was not over yet, but there were plenty of seconds still left of the fourth quarter, and The Titans were only up by one point over the Glendale Warriors. Dave had just failed to cover an offensive tackle, and the tackle had gotten at Sam; the ball had gotten away from him, and one of the Warriors got it. They were now thirty yards away from scoring to turnover the game.

Dave knew he'd be getting an earful from Beiste, the burly woman had already kicked down a bench.

"Look, Sam, I already said I'm sorry and it won't happen again, I promise," he said.

Sam looked like he was trying really hard to keep his temper in check and merely nursed his arm, which had gotten the blunt of the tackle.

Dave was having a hard time concentrating; there was just too much going on. This was a rather important game; it would decide who would be facing off in the championship game on January. There was also supposed to be a college football scout in the bleachers somewhere.

Also in the bleachers, his parents; this was only the fourth time they had both been able to attend one of his games.

Also in the bleachers, Kurt. With _his_ parents. Plus Blaine, the Glee girls, and Melrose.

Also in the bleachers, and oddly enough, detective Owens and a uniformed cop.

Which made Dave think that they were there to keep watch; it's not every day that a detective would be on duty at a high school football game. But then again, not every day are the teams involved in an ongoing criminal investigation.

It made him nervous. Dave was the reason two of the Warrior's star players had been arrested, and maybe he was being paranoid, but he'd swear the Warriors lineup knew it. He was bracing himself for some backlash.

"Hey, look alive!" Azimio shouted at him, tugging at his jersey. The Titans were gathering for a huddle. Dave snapped out of it and followed.

This was their last huddle. Finn didn't look happy. None of them did.

"Karofsky, I swear to-" Puck started, but Finn interrupted him.

"Let it go, man. We have to keep going. We have to turn over the play," he said. Dave breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Puck's glare.

"Someone needs to sack their quarterback," Finn continued. "If they get a touchdown, it's over."

It was true; there were only twenty-two seconds left on the clock. If the Warriors managed a touchdown, or even a field goal, it was goodbye to the championship. There wasn't enough time to start a new play. Not unless they managed to snatch the ball from the other team.

He'd made a mistake. Now he was going to fix it.

"Ready?" Finn clapped his hands together.

They broke the huddle. Coach Beiste was shouting from the sidelines. Dave lined up with the rest of the defense and kept a close eye on the quarterback.

Strando was supposed to sack him. But Strando was slow, even when he was the closest.

The clock was ticking again. The quarterback shouted a code to change the play. Dave tensed in anticipation.

"HUT! HUT!"

The ball snapped.

Dave took off. One of the tackles tried to cut him off, but he ducked and squeezed by, and suddenly he was in front of the quarterback, ball still in his hands. As he ran into him, the quarterback backed away slightly and pitched. Dave landed on top of him as the ball left his hands, and both fell to the ground.

He snuck a glance over his shoulder. The throw was way off. The receiver tried to get it, but Mike leapt in front and caught the ball easily. He landed in a crouch, like a ninja, and took off running in the opposite direction. Puck and Azimio cleared the way for him.

In less than seven seconds, he made it all the way to their end zone and scored.

The scoreboard now read _Titans 27, Warriors 20_.

Dave watched as his team jumped and shouted in excitement. Sam ran by him and congratulated him. Finn and Puck interrupted Mike's dancing in the end zone, to hitch him up on their shoulders and carry him around.

Azimio and Strando slapped Dave on the back, hooting like wild animals.

In the sidelines, Beiste ran into the dancing cheerleaders and scooped Brittany into her arms and swung her around, eliciting a confused look from the ditzy blonde, while an angry Santana tried to make her put her down.

It was over. They had won.

They were going to the championship.

Dave chanced a glance up at the bleachers. The rest of the Glee girls were jumping up and down cheering. Tina was blowing kisses at her boyfriend on the field, Mercedes and Lauren waved flags and Rachel was clapping like her hands would fall off. Blaine had an arm around Kurt's shoulders, speaking into his ear excitedly, while Kurt was just smiling at the team celebrating on the field

Detective Owens stood at the bottom of the bleachers, looking oddly still and detached while everyone around him went nuts. He seemed to be more interested on the losing team; like he expected them to start a riot. He must have felt Dave staring, because suddenly he looked straight back at him. For a moment, the stern face seemed too unfriendly; but then Owens gave him an almost imperceptible nod, before going back to his watchful duty.

* * *

><p>"Ugh, piece of crap," Melrose complained, when her lighter wouldn't work.<p>

"Mel, don't smoke. Not here. There's a lot of people," Burt scolded her.

"I'm cold!"

"How exactly does smoking warm you up?"

"It doesn't. But it distracts me from the fact that I'm freezing my ass off."

"Here, sweetie," Carole said, handing her an extra scarf, with the McKinley Titans emblem on it.

"Aww, thanks, Carole," Melrose said, proceeding to wrap the scarf around her neck. "I don't understand how you people can stand around in this cold for six hours, watching a game."

"You think _this_ is cold? Then I suggest you don't come to the championship game in February. _That's_ cold," Lauren said.

"You're just mad because you didn't understand anything that was going on, so you were bored," Mercedes said.

"Oh, I understand everything. I had a boyfriend who was a major Patriots fan. But it's true, I do find it boring. I prefer real football, which you call 'bananas'," Melrose joked.

"Soccer?" Tina asked.

"Like I said, _real_ football. Where the ball is in constant contact with your foot. Ergo, FOOTball."

"We get it," Mercedes rolled her eyes at her.

"Besides, the uniforms are much more flattering. If there's anything that will cheer me up and keep me warm, it's the delightful sight of a bunch of hot guys running around in shorts."

"Still, you've got to admit, that last play was exciting," Rachel said.

"Yeah, I guess it was," Melrose shrugged.

"Are you kidding? My boyfriend totally killed it with that touchdown," Tina quipped.

"Your kicker sucks, though," Melrose pointed out. "That's supposed to be an easy point, how could he mess that up?"

"_Our_ kicker? Stonewall is not our kicker. He's just another failed attempt at a kicker. We've had several of those," Lauren said.

"The only one who has ever been good at it is Kurt," Rachel said.

"_Good_? Kurt was terrific! Too bad he didn't stay in the team," Burt said.

"Too bad the team didn't do enough to keep him in the team," Mercedes corrected. Blaine smiled and looked at Kurt, who seemed to not be paying attention at all.

"Hey," Blaine said softly, nudging him gently with his shoulder. Kurt seemed to come out of a trance and met his gaze.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt responded, a little too quickly. He smiled back and looped arms with Blaine. He was shivering a little. It might have been from the cold; however, Blaine suddenly noticed where they stood.

Only during game nights did people used that alley to access the football field. It was crowded at the moment, but it was the same alley. They stood in almost the exact spot where, precisely two weeks before, Kurt was assaulted by two members of tonight's visiting team.

At least the window had been repaired.

"Come on, let's get inside or something," he said, wanting to get Kurt out of there before he noticed too. Kurt nodded, and allowed himself to be led away, but Blaine got the feeling that Kurt had already noticed too, and was more than willing to leave.

* * *

><p>After an encouraging (at best) congratulatory speech from coach Beiste -during which she very briefly acknowledged that Dave's tackle had allowed Mike's interception, and berated Stonewall a bit for being lousy-, the team hit the showers. Dave, however, was taking his time. He pulled off his sweaty jersey and sat there in front of his locker, for a long moment, too tired to move.<p>

He had hoped that winning would make him feel better. He thought that making the championship should've felt like a bigger deal. But right now, football didn't hold the same meaning to him anymore.

"Hey," someone said above him.

Dave looked up, a little surprised to see Finn there, with his dorky smile. He had already showered, and his gray t-shirt was spotted with water where his hair was dripping.

"That was a really good play," Finn said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you kidding? It was brilliant. Quick thinking."

"Thanks, man."

Finn sighed. "And now we're going to the championship."

"Yep," Dave said, nodding slowly.

"I know you were nervous tonight," Finn said. Dave snorted.

"I'm always nervous during a game. It was a big game."

"I mean, besides that. Because of the other team."

Dave stared at him and nodded.

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "A little."

"I was nervous about that too."

There was a sudden silence between them, interspersed with the ruckus of the others.

"Listen… can we talk for a second?" Finn said.

Dave swallowed hard. "Sure," he responded. Shoulder pads still on, he followed Finn out to the hallway. At the other end of the hallway, coach Sylvester was shouting something at the Cheerios.

"I've been meaning to say that I'm sorry," Finn started, once they were alone.

Dave stared blankly. As far as he knew, the only one who should be sorry about anything was him.

Finn took a deep breath to continue. "I'm sorry I accused you. You didn't deserve it. I was just angry and scared and I… wasn't thinking."

Dave fidgeted a little, not wanting to meet Finn's eyes. Finn paced very slowly, looking at the ground as he spoke, like he was trying to get a lot of stuff out and he might as well do it quickly. "I'm also sorry about the Glee club. I know it was only stuff that you've done to us too, but they shouldn't have anyway. It wasn't right. And I know that you've also been helping with the case, and I appreciate it. I admit I didn't believe it at first, but seeing detective Owens even came to make sure nothing happened to you, I guess I was wrong."

Dave's mouth fell slightly open. He hadn't really thought that the detective's presence could've been exclusively for him. He was about to say something, but he didn't want to interrupt the other boy.

Finn stopped pacing and leaned against the opposite wall. "I guess it was just easier to believe that you were the bad guy, rather than face the fact that there are worse people out there."

"I'm sorry that I didn't believe that you could actually change," he went on. "It's just that, just when I was starting to have a family... everything that happened last year, it felt like it was being torn apart again. And I couldn't forgive you."

Dave felt a sting of guilt, and suddenly he remembered something. Something that, in his desire to forget what he had done, had been buried in the back of his mind.

He looked up to see that Finn was standing closer now.

"I know your behavior toward Kurt has changed; you don't bully him anymore, I'm not sure if it's because coach Sylvester has been breathing down your neck, or if it was really Santana's influence, or you've honestly had a change of heart," Finn said. "Anyway, it's great, and I appreciate it. But you get why it was so difficult for me to accept it."

Dave nodded slowly. Finn scratched the back of his neck, uncertainly. "You have to understand, he's my brother, and I feel responsible for him. We all do. And for Blaine too," he added with a sigh. "And for something like this to have happened on our watch… It was just hard. But I guess we can now let you off the hook."

A hand fell on his shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie, of reassurance.

"What I'm trying to say is, thank you for what you did for my brother," Finn said.

Dave's heart sank. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any protection, or apologies, or gratitude.

But for the sake of Finn's speech, and some truce between them, he nodded and smiled back, and with a simple pat on the back, the matter seemed to be settled. He was thankful that, at least, he didn't have to dodge Finn's burning glares anymore; that maybe he could someday count on his support.

"Well, I've got to go," Finn said, heading toward the door to the field. "See ya," he said, waving.

"Yeah, see ya," Dave replied. He took a deep breath before going back into the locker room.

* * *

><p>On Monday, the kids were fiercely rehearsing for Sectionals.<p>

"Okay, once more from the top! Mercedes, that was great!" Will announced. "Brittany, Mike, watch the others closely and correct them. Finn! Get up! No breaks, we have to keep going! Rachel, Santana, stop trying to kill each other, please! Puck, what in the Lord's name do you think you're doing?"

"Um... Hello...?"

Will stopped shouting orders and turned to the door. A young, dark-haired man stood in the threshold, looking around hesitantly.

"Yes?" Will answered, in his head trying to remember where he had seen him before. The boy entered slowly.

"Sorry... um, I'm looking for Kurt Hummel?" He spoke with a thick accent.

Kurt gasped and stood up and approached him slowly. "Hi," he said, smiling. The boy's face lit up.

"Kurt? Hi," he held out a hand to shake, and Kurt took it. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to finally meet you, too."

Everyone watched the exchange curiously.

"Hey, Kurt. Who's the hottie and why are you shamelessly flirting in front of your boyfriend?" Santana teased. Blaine shoved her playfully and Kurt gave her a deadly glare. The boy stared at her, puzzled.

"Guys, this is Terry," Kurt announced, gesturing to the newcomer. "Melrose's Terry."

"Oooooooh," the others exclaimed in unison, suddenly recognizing the boy from the pictures in Melrose's apartment.

Kurt introduced Terry to everyone, and the young man went around shaking everyone's hand. He seemed very polite and friendly; he had a certain joyful quality that reminded Kurt of Melrose herself, which made him seem like her perfect match.

"Did you come after Melrose? That is so romantic," Rachel said excitedly.

"I guess, but... Kurt?" Terry turned hesitantly to Kurt, his expression growing expectant.

Kurt thought for a moment. "We have to make her a proposal that she can't refuse," he smirked.

Terry shook his head. "I don't know, mate, I'm not that eager to have my heart broken again. I'm not even sure what I'm doing here," he shrugged, laughing nervously.

"So you just flew from Paris without any hopes that you could get her back?"

"I came here because you convinced me to come here."

"Well, there you go, I've got power of conviction," Kurt joked. "Maybe I can just as easily convince Melrose to go back to Paris with you."

"Yeah right," Terry snorted. Blaine laughed. The two boys were talking as if they had been friends forever. Terry suddenly looked very apprehensive.

"What if she ran away because she honestly doesn't love me anymore?"

Kurt shook his head. "Trust me. I know her. And the fact that you're here proves that you're perfect for each other. How can she say 'no' to that?" Kurt said, looking more excited that he had in a while.

"So what you're saying is, the 'proposal' is just me showing up?"

"I'm saying that it's enough, but _we_," he gestured to the members of New Directions, "are going to make it fail-proof."

* * *

><p>Kurt knocked on Melrose's door later that afternoon. There were loud noises coming from within, and when she finally opened, she looked flustered and a little out of breath.<p>

"Hey!" he said cheerfully. Her eyes were wide with surprise and joy. "Can I come in?"

She looked hesitant for a moment. "What are you doing here, Fluffy? Did you climb all those stairs by yourself? Papa Burt is gonna kill you if he finds out."

"Are you hiding someone in there? Did I interrupt something?" he asked, suddenly feeling like the floor had come out from underneath him. What if she was with someone?

She snorted. "No," she replied. "Fine, come in."

He went inside, and realized why she had been reluctant to let him in. The apartment was a lot messier than he had seen it in a while; in fact, the last time he had seen it like this was when Melrose was moving in. There were boxes everywhere, and two open suitcases; stuff was piled on every surface.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. Melrose thumbed the hem of her dress.

"Packing," she admitted sheepishly.

"Where are you going?"

"New York."

"Oh... I thought you only said that so it would seem you had a plan," he said, as nonchalant as he could.

"Actually I've been thinking about it since my stint at teaching French ended," she said. "New York is my safest bet. I like it there; I know people there. Besides, soon enough, you'll be there too."

"Yeah," he said, smiling gladly at first, but he faltered. "So, are you leaving, like, right now?"

She snorted again. "Yeah, right, like I could ever be so organized. I've yet to find an apartment, so I can ship all this stuff, and tomorrow I'm meeting with a guy who might buy the Volvo. I'm waiting until the weekend, at least, which is fine, because it's taking me a while to figure out what I'm taking with me."

She ran a hand through her long hair and played with a strand. "I was actually waiting for you to get better before I left. You know I could never leave without saying goodbye to you."

Kurt smiled sadly again, not knowing what to say. He didn't want her to go. Having Melrose back was great and unexpected. When she left almost six years before, he never really thought he might see her again; he thought she'd just carry on with her life halfway across the world, and they'd only randomly e-mail each other. He never expected her to return to Lima. It gave him a lovely feeling of nostalgia for a time when a fifteen-year-old French girl decided it was perfectly cool to befriend an eight-year-old boy, and have tea parties and camp outs in the backyard. She had brought a little life back into him, when he felt his whole world had come tumbling down. She was a force of nature, and he didn't want her to take that away again.

But he knew what he had to do.

"You know New York isn't the answer," he said matter-of-factly.

"Kurt, don't make me feel bad about this," she said, sighing in exasperation. She got up and started tossing shoes into a box. "I'm trying to move on. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? That's what everyone tells me I should do."

"Then you misinterpret everyone."

"Don't start, please," she shook her head.

"Yes, I'm going to start. You belong in Paris. You told me this last week."

"I just want to start over. I don't want to sit around and beat myself up over how I let everything go wrong. That's good, isn't it?" she was trying to sound like she was happy and determined with her decision. But Melrose was never very good at hiding her feelings. At least not from Kurt.

"But you haven't even tried to make things right," he said.

"Because I know it's pointless," she replied without thinking. Kurt blinked at her.

"No, you don't. You have no idea," he smirked. "Mel, you don't give yourself enough credit."

He stood up and pushed her hair out of her face, to get her to look at him. "I understand it's hard. But you're one of the bravest people I know. All you need is someone to have faith in you." He pointed to himself. Melrose met his eyes and suddenly looked very sad.

"I know someone else who does too," he added. He took her hand and led her toward the window. "Well, we just met..."

Her eyes went wide, like she already knew what he meant, before she had even looked down. Across the street, there was an odd crowd of musicians. Melrose stared in disbelief at Terry, standing with New Directions, holding a guitar; Finn, Puck and Sam also had their guitars.

He didn't say anything at first, just looked up at her and smiled, like he was so relieved to see her, and Melrose wanted to die.

"What did you do, Kurt?" she squeaked, backing away from the window, hands over her mouth.

"No, no, you don't get to run anymore. You can thank me or kill me later, but now, you're gonna stand here and lean out the window like a Disney princess and be serenaded as if you were in a cheesy film, because we worked hard on this, and you brought it upon yourself," he ranted, grabbing her arm and pulling her back toward the window, and Melrose couldn't struggle much for fear of hurting him.

"I will break your other arm and a leg too," she still threatened through gritted teeth.

"WINDOW! NOW!"

"NO!"

"Melrose?"

Melrose froze when she heard her name, when she heard Terry's voice for the first time in almost three months, and Kurt took the opportunity to yank her toward the window again, and she all but fell out.

"Hi," Terry greeted her, a mixture of worry and joy and awkwardness etched on his face. He bit his lip when she didn't say anything, she was too stunned to speak anymore, and he fumbled with his guitar.

"Look... you don't have to say anything, I just..." he took a very deep breath and looked up, "I'm hoping that at least you'll hear me out, hear _us_ out. Even though this wasn't my idea, I'm all for it. As long as you... if I could, maybe, make you think about coming back..." he trailed off, chewing at his lip again.

Kurt stuck his head out the window and looked down over Melrose's shoulder.

"If I did anything to make you go away... then I'm sorry," Terry added, his voice faltering a little.

Kurt saw that Merlose's hands were trembling as she gripped the edge of the windowsill, and she was holding her breath.

With the accompaniment of the boys' guitars, and the rest of New Directions, Terry sang a very mellow, acoustic version of "Drops of Jupiter", and Kurt knew right away that it worked perfectly; he watched Melrose out of the corner of his eye, her lips parting with a silent gasp, her eyes softening, and the faintest smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"_Tell me, did Venus blow your mind?_

_Was it everything you wanted to find?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_"

Kurt watched, hopeful, while Terry sang his heart out. He already liked him a lot, and they had only known each other for half an hour, plus a few dozen e-mails. He was sweet, funny, and he was head-over-heels in love with this girl (which Kurt constantly joked that he found inexplicable). Terry said that he could always see past the crazy sarcastic exterior, and see Melrose in all her charming imperfection and insecurity, and he loved her precisely for that.

"_Your best friend always sticking up for you..._"

Melrose glanced at Kurt, and they smiled at each other. People in the street were stopping to see what was going on. Some of her neighbors were sticking their heads out their windows to catch a glimpse of the show. Melrose's geeky Harry Potter fan neighbor was suddenly recording everything with her video camera. Kurt laughed when he noticed Melrose was turning bright pink, something that rarely happened; she was never embarrassed by anything. He held out his hand and she hesitated before taking it, but she allowed him to lead her downstairs. He barely gave her a chance to put on shoes and a coat, and pick something up from the dresser.

As the last verse of the song faded, Melrose stood outside her building, disheveled and a little teary-eyed, Kurt nudging her from behind because she was taking nervous Bambi-steps down the porch, eyes fixed on Terry. There was a minute in which no one said a word as she crossed the street, hands in her pockets, toward her serenader.

"Hey," he breathed, smiling again. "You made it to the other side of the street."

Melrose shrugged awkwardly. "Well, you crossed an ocean for me, apparently; the least I could do was cross the street to get to you." Almost as soon as she said that, she seemed to roll her eyes at herself. "Oh my god, that is, like, the cheesiest thing I might have ever said in my entire life," she groaned.

Terry was laughing now.

"You came all the way from Paris," she started, her voice wavering, "You came to Lima, Ohio."

Terry shrugged and chuckled nervously. "I always wanted to see it, anyway," he said, "you always talk so fondly about it."

Melrose's eyes were roaming over him like she couldn't really believe he was there. She inched closer to him, still trembling. Terry's breath caught in his throat as she got closer, blushing because a lot of people were still staring, but he couldn't care much, and neither could she, because he was here, in front of her apartment, and he sang to her, and she could smell him and touch him and hold him if she only reached out.

He beat her to it, though. In one fluid movement, he pushed his guitar out of the way and pulled her toward him and enveloped her in his arms.

"I missed you," he whispered. Melrose melted into his embrace and started crying silently into his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

"I'm sorry and I love you and I've felt like the biggest bitch since I left and I can't believe you're here and I've miss you so-"

"It's okay," he stroked her hair. "I forgive you, I really don't care anymore, I'm just glad I found you."

"No," she shook her head, "you can't forgive me just like that. _I _wouldn't forgive me, why would you?"

"Well, you see, I don't think you love you as much as I do," he said, kissing her forehead. "But we can work on that."

Melrose glanced at Kurt over Terry's shoulder; she pulled out the little velvet box with the engagement ring and slid it into Terry's hand.

"I don't really want to get married. I love you and I wish I did- Maybe in a few years..." she stammered. Terry shook his head.

"That's fine. I mean, it would've been nice if you had said it three months ago, instead of leaving, but it's fine. We'll worry about that when the time comes. Meanwhile, let's just stay together, okay? Unfortunately I don't function very well without you anymore."

Melrose pouted. "I'm sorry, Terry."

"It's okay. But you can't drop from the face of the earth like this again. Whatever happens, we work it out together."

She nodded. He leaned down hesitantly and kissed her on the lips. Melrose wrapped her arms around his neck. Terry suddenly stopped because they still had an audience and he felt very embarrassed.

"Don't mind us, we'll leave as soon as the credits start rolling on this romcom," Santana joked.

"Isn't there like a nameless cat somewhere around here too?" Mercedes added.

"Actually, I was thinking more of 'Jerry Maguire', only I'm not sure who's Tom Cruise and who's Renee Zellweger," Blaine said.

"'You had me at 'hello'!'" Kurt exclaimed in a very high-pitched voice.

"I get it, I get it, very funny, haha," Melrose said, wiping tears from her eyes as she rolled her eyes at her friends. "Thanks, guys, this was very nice of all of you," she added, half-seriously, half like a child being forced to be polite.

"That's all you're going to say? We just put together an awesome performance in record time," Sam complained.

"Not to mention, Mr. Schue wanted to kill us because we were supposed to be rehearsing, but we bailed early to come serenade you," Mike added.

"Fine," Melrose sighed and smiled at all of them. "Thank you for bringing my boyfriend to me. I love you all," she said, more sincerely this time. "Especially you," she pointed at Kurt, who waved a hand dismissively.

"It was nothing, really," he said, but he was cut off by Melrose enveloping him in a big hug, followed by Terry. Then Blaine, and Finn, and obviously Puck couldn't be left out of the group hug. Pretty soon, there were sixteen people in a massive group hug in the street, and Melrose's geeky neighbor caught it all on tape.

* * *

><p>"So..."<p>

"So..."

Melrose looked meaningfully at Kurt, who stared back innocently.

The kids had spent the rest of the afternoon in her apartment, ordered pizza courtesy of a very grateful Melrose, and goofed around for a while. Terry told some stories, the kids told theirs, but after a while, the Scottish boy announced that his jet lag was starting to kick in, so he flopped onto Melrose's bed and promptly fell asleep. After that, the kids started leaving one by one, until only Blaine and Kurt were left.

While Blaine graciously offered to do the dishes, Kurt was helping Melrose tidy her apartment, or tried as best as he could with only one arm. Melrose was merely pushing boxes up against the wall and tossing clothes and shoes back in the closet.

"So, you planned this," she said finally.

Kurt shook his head. "We both did."

"And how did you even..."

"It's called Facebook, darling. I contacted him weeks ago," Kurt explained simply.

"Oh yeah, Facebook... I don't use it much."

"I know you don't," he said. "And I knew if you found out, you'd get angry with me."

He sat down carefully on one end of the couch. "Remember that day you brought us to your apartment for the first time? And I saw the ring? I found him on Facebook and he gave me his e-mail, and we wrote to each other."

Melrose was nodding slowly, as if taking all of it in.

"I told him where you were and how you were doing," Kurt continued. "He was really worried. No one else had been able to tell him where you might be. You didn't leave a note or anything. He was sure something bad had happened. Because he didn't think you were the kind of person who would just pick up and leave like that."

Melrose's face turned red, and she started crying again. Kurt patted her hand comfortingly.

"So I told him that everything would be okay, because I knew you would eventually tell me why you had left him. And when the time was right, I'd let him know that he should come find you himself and... take you away in his TARDIS," he added with a grin.

Melrose laughed between her tears.

"It broke my heart a little. He was so desperate to find you," Kurt added. "I know you thought you messed up completely, so I was glad I could give you another chance."

"You didn't have to do that," she said sadly.

"Of course I did," he said matter-of-factly.

"You... had your own problems..."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Oh, so I was supposed to pretend to not care at all? Was I supposed to fail you and fail him, just because of a few bumps and bruises?"

"And broken arm, and broken ribs, and broken ego-"

"Mel, when are you gonna get it inside your head? You're family. And families look out for each other."

Melrose wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "I keep telling myself that, but I just don't know..."

Kurt pulled her into a hug.

"We will always be your family. You will always belong with us. I've got headdresses and matching sleeping bags to prove it."

Melrose laughed again, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"And now Terry is gonna be family too," he added. "Dad's going to want to meet him, by the way, so keep your fingers crossed he never brings up the shotgun, but I'm pretty sure he will anyway."

"What did I ever do to deserve you, Fluffy?" she asked, playing with the fingers of his good hand.

"Hey, you saved me first, remember? It was about time I made it up to you."

* * *

><p>"You're rather quiet."<p>

Blaine turned to Kurt for a second, before looking back out the windshield. He let out a sigh.

"You're amazing," he said, like that was explanation enough.

Kurt blushed and looked out the window to. They had driven from Melrose's place to Kurt's house in silence, but now they were parked in front of the Hummel-Hudson residence, and Kurt didn't immediately get out of the car; Blaine's hand had been clasping his the whole way, and he didn't want to let go, nor did Kurt want to leave.

"It's just... all this time, even when you were feeling down, you've been talking to this boy halfway around the world and trying to convince him to come fetch the girl," Blaine said.

"Why is everyone so surprised that I wanted to help Melrose? I mean, she's like my sister, of course I want her to be happy," Kurt replied.

"No, I know, but... what happened was pretty big, and I don't think anyone expected you to be, you know, caring much about anything at all. I thought maybe you were in a bit of a dark place right now, and it would make perfect sense," he stroked the back of Kurt's hand gently. "But even then you were... playing matchmaker."

Kurt let out a long breath and smiled. "To be honest, I wanted to make myself feel better. I thought it would give me hope. I kept thinking that, well, if I can do something to get these two to find each other again, then maybe everything will be alright," he shrugged. "I kind of hope that anyone can have that, someone to fly across an ocean for them."

Blaine looked at him. "I would."

"I know," Kurt smiled, and Blaine felt a swelling in his chest.

"Come on," he said, getting out of the car. He went around to the other door, just as Kurt was getting out, and helped him stand. He grabbed his bag and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked to the front door.

Once there, Blaine watched Kurt as he fumbled through his bag looking for his keys. Blaine watched him, under the yellow light of the porch, noting how much graver his face looked when he was serious and thoughtful. But when he caught Blaine looking at him, his eyes lit up, and a smile stretched across his face, and it was once again the boy he met in the staircase at Dalton, this beautiful boy who took his breath away. On his pale skin, the healing blackened eye and scars on his cheek and lip were still pretty visible, and Blaine wondered how someone could still look so beautiful when looking so broken.

He leaned forward to kiss him gently, breathing in Kurt's scent, as if to embed it in his mind. Kurt's hand came up to his neck, to pull him in deeper, and Blaine allowed it, arms snaking around his waist, wanting to hold him tight, but being careful not to hurt Kurt. All he could feel and smell and hear was Kurt, and his head started to get fuzzy, and he felt safe and happy and he knew that everything would be alright.

He didn't know how long it lasted, but it would never feel like long enough. Kurt pulled away gently, licking his lips, and Blaine snuck one last peck on the tip of his nose.

Kurt jumped a little when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and pulled it out to read a text message. "_Could you not do that out the in the open? I'd much rather have you do that in here-_ DAD, STOP WATCHING! THAT IS SO CREEPY!"

Blaine burst out laughing, and quickly kissed Kurt on the cheek before rushing back toward his car, just as Burt opened the front door.

"What? I just thought Blaine would like to come in for a second," he said nonchalantly.

"You scared him away," Kurt replied through gritted teeth.

"No, he didn't! I just really have to go!" Blaine shouted over his shoulder, trying to control his laughter. "Bye, Mr. Hummel!"

As he got safely back in his car, he made sure that Kurt had gone in first, before starting up the car. As he did, he thought he saw Burt Hummel staring at him rather fondly from the door, and they waved to each other before Blaine drove away, still laughing.

* * *

><p><em>Again, sorry for the long wait, and for all the fluff and cheese and corn. Next chapter is really the last, and I'll be so relieved, and also a little bit saddened, so excuse me if that one turns extra fluffy.<em>

_ I'm working on another short fic, and hopefully I can post it these next few days, because I really wanted to post it before Episode 5 of Glee, after which my brain will probably be rendered a useless mush and I won't be able to form coherent thoughts for a very, very long time. _

_So anyway, thank you for reading, and review if you'd like. _

_ -Vale_


	18. Chapter 18

_Final chapter. I think I might have rushed through it a little. I was so desperate to finish. I had to, before episode 5 blows my mind to smithereens._

_I'll probably review the entire story one day, or at least the chapters with which I'm the least satisfied. _

_Thank you to those who followed this little journey from beginning to end. This is the first multi-chapter story I've ever done, and actually finished. I really hope you enjoyed it. _

_I had a few story-only headcanons regarding the music that I felt like sharing. Like if my story were the plot of the episodes of Glee, I always pictured the first time Melrose walks into McKinley as a half-flashback experience, with her singing Mark Ronson/Lily Allen's "Oh my God", because the lyrics and the style are so fitting. And something like Barcelone being sung by Blaine during the heartbreaking post-attack scenes, and Melrose singing "Try" by Nelly Furtado, also after the attack. And at the end, Melrose's real goodbye scene was singing one last time with all of New Directions, and she was Feist in "1234", and at the end, when she bows to the camera, Melrose would walk off the frame and that would be the end._

_I don't know if any of that made sense to anyone. I just really wish I could see the work process of the Glee writers. It's just so fascinating._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, and FOX._

* * *

><p><span>Blackened blue eyes<span>

by HappyValentina

The next day, Will went into the auditorium looking for Brad and the Jazz band, to get the extra copies of the sheet music for New Directions' performance at Sectionals. He didn't find them, though. He only found Melrose.

"Hi," she said, a little hesitantly. "I was looking for you."

"Oh," he said awkwardly. "Well, here I am."

"I thought you'd be leaving already; I saw the kids outside, waiting for you by the bus to go to Sectionals." c

"Yeah, we're almost leaving, I just needed to do something quick first," he said, leaning against the frame of the auditorium door. "So what's up?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye. I'll probably still see you after the competition, but just in case I don't... in case you're too busy celebrating your victory."

"You're coming to the competition?"

"Oh yeah, I wouldn't miss it for the world! Kurt told us we had to."

"So... you and Terry."

"Yeah,"

"He's a really nice guy," Will said.

"I know..."

"So then that means you're going back to Paris with him?"

"I can finally go back to Paris," she replied, letting out a very relieved sigh.

"Ah, so you've taken my advice," he said a bit smugly. Melrose narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, your advice was to go back to Paris and fix 'things'. I guess neither of us expected 'things' to come here and fix _me_."

Will chuckled. "Well, I just hope everything works out fine. I wish you all the best and the happiest of marriages."

Melrose shook her head, smiling embarrassingly at the floor. "Yeah, I don't think we're getting married. Not right now, at least."

Will's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"I just don't feel ready yet," Melrose said with a shrug. "Terry's cool with that, though, and that he doesn't even need to get married, he just thought it was the natural progression of our relationship. I wish he had talked to me about it before popping the question." She thought for a moment. "Actually, I wish I had talked to him about it instead of running out. He says that he was a mess until Kurt called him. I felt horrible."

"At least everything worked out," Will gave her a lopsided smile.

"Well, I still feel silly. I went through all this crap and I will forever beat myself up over it, for making such a stupid decision, and I don't feel like I deserve for anyone to come here and try to win me back. If only I hadn't been such an idiot, none of this would've happened," she let out a frustrated gust of air.

"Well," Will started with a shrug, "think about it this way: if you hadn't run away, you wouldn't have come here, or worked here, or sang with New Directions, or been there for Kurt, or helped Dave Karofsky, or helped the Glee kids, and most importantly, maybe you wouldn't have realized how much you really love Terry. You know, that whole 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' thing that everyone always says?"

Melrose chuckled. "You're probably right."

"I am," Will said pointedly.

"I still feel silly," she grimaced.

"You should," Will again pointed out.

"Thanks," she made a face. Will smirked and reached into his bag, pulling out a CD.

"Here, I was going to give it to Kurt so he'd give it to you, in case I didn't see you again before you left," he handed it to her.

"What is it?" she smiled curiously. There was no label; Will had only written 'Melrose' across the front with a black sharpie.

"A farewell present."

Melrose's face lit up. "Is this my video? My Florence video?" Will nodded.

"I gave it a look. Not bad for a crazy french chick with attitude problems."

"Says the guy who chickened out of doing his own performance," she shot back.

"The ending is particularly funny."

"With all the kids getting up on the stage with me?" Melrose grinned, looking toward it; it was currently stripped of decoration and unlit. Will nodded again.

"Yeah, that looked like fun," he said. Melrose nodded too and looked intently at the CD in her hands.

"I'm gonna miss them..." she said in a low voice. Will watched her, as her face seemed to darken for a moment, before it suddenly brightened again as she looked at him.

"At least I get to see you guys perform once more. So you better kick ass," she added.

"Oh, we'll bring it," Will assured her. Melrose sighed.

"I guess you better get going. We'll see you there," she motioned toward the door. They both stepped out in the hallway.

"I'll still probably coming back here tomorrow, before we fly back to Paris on thursday. Otherwise I won't get another chance to see the kids for a very long time."

"So you're never coming back here? Not even to check up on us?"

Melrose pretended to think hard, shutting one eye comically and tapping her chin.

"I think you guys are going to do just fine," she finally said. Then she shrugged and winked. "But who knows..."

She turned on her heel and headed down the hallway. Will was left shaking his head and grinning and rolling his eyes. He was going to miss her. She reminded Will of another substitute teacher, who was also a rolling stone. But he had a good feeling now, and he sensed that she would be fine.

* * *

><p>Dave thought he had just seen Melrose in the hallways of McKinley. He wondered if he had just been thinking too much about her, and he had imagined her suddenly, or if she was really there.<p>

It's because he had spent the entire weekend thinking about everything she told him; so much that he could barely focus on anything else.

He was glad things had taken a turn for the better as of recent. Seeing Kurt back at school, as mortifying as that initial encounter had been, made him feel relieved; he had not heard anything again from detective Owens, which he took as a good sign, and now he was actually looking forward to the Thanksgiving break.

His parents were proud of him, they told him numerous times after the game. And he guessed his mood must have improved somewhat after talking with Finn, because they noted that too. They were especially doting toward him all weekend; they took him out to dinner on Saturday, and they had a lengthy conversation about his future. Dave was relieved, because his father was being emphatic about Dave choosing to become whatever he wanted, that he shouldn't feel like football was the only career path choice for him. And it was amazing to hear those words.

But still he had trouble focusing.

The truth was, he had been giving himself a pep talk all weekend, and then all week. And he still felt a horrible emptiness in his stomach every time he thought about it. But Melrose was right. He had to do it. And he had to do it now.

He looked through the glass of the main entrance doors, and spotted Kurt sitting outside the McKinley main building, halfway down the bottom of the steps. A young man with dark hair and a charming smile was standing next to him, and they were talking animatedly, laughing about something. There was barely anyone else left on the school grounds.

Dave swallowed hard. His feet and hands felt like lead as he pushed through the doors and walked out, slowly making his way down the steps, as quietly as he could. He suddenly felt like he shouldn't interrupt.

The young man turned to him.

_Shit_, Dave though. There was no way he could escape now.

"Hey, Kurt," he blurted out, as casually as he could.

Kurt looked up, twisting back a little to see who it was.

"Hey," he said, a little hesitant. The young man glanced between the two.

Dave was going to start hyperventilating. "Why are you still here? I thought you guys had a big competition. I saw the others getting in the bus."

Kurt's face fell a little. "They went ahead."

As he climbed down the steps to be level with them, Dave put on his best sympathetic face. Anything to hide how nervous he was feeling.

"Why aren't you with them?" he asked. Of course he knew the answer to that, it was pretty obvious, but he was trying to make conversation.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders weakly, like the answer could drain him of all his energy.

"I can't perform," he answered. "I still can't sing very well, I can't even move around properly, so I wouldn't have been much of a contribution for the team. Plus, I missed all the rehearsals."

"Oh," Dave said.

"I'm still going," Kurt continued, with a little sad smile. "Just not with them. They had to go ahead to get ready. We're just waiting for Melrose, she needed to use the restroom."

"Oh, good," Dave nodded.

Kurt suddenly gestured to the young dark-haired man. "This is Terry, by the way. Melrose's boyfriend."

Terry shook Dave's hand politely. Dave smiled as pleasantly as he could, but he was starting to tremble. He needed to do this right away; if he didn't, he would chicken out and then he'd never let himself live it down.

"Listen, I... can't I talk to you for a moment?" he basically spewed out, without thinking. Kurt seemed to have intuited this, because he didn't seem all that surprised. He only glanced at Terry very briefly, who pointed in the direction of the parking lot.

"I'll just wait in the car," he said in a very thick accent.

Dave watched him go, and he felt a cold sweat breaking out from his brow. They were alone now. There was no backing out. Whatever happened, happened.

He must have stood there for too long, because Kurt started to look uncomfortable.

"... Aren't you going to sit down or something?"

Without a word, Dave obeyed. He suddenly realized that, not since that one Chemistry lesson, had he sat calmly with Kurt, just to talk.

Kurt seemed to be avoiding his eyes, because his gaze was fixed on the hem of his coat, toying with it with is right hand, while the other one remained pocketed. Dave watched the fingers playing with the fabric; then his eyes moved slightly to the right, and on the wrist of his cast, just visible under the sleeve, he saw "Blaine hearts Kurt" written in blue sharpie.

And Dave suddenly knew what he most wanted from all of this. He wanted to protect Kurt, even if he couldn't be with him.

He wanted to redeem himself, to erase everything he had done that he now regretted. He wanted with all his heart to make it up to this frail-looking boy, whom he hated and loved at the same time for being everything he might never be; brave and strong and kind and precious.

But Kurt wasn't the kind of guy who needed to be saved. He was fragile-looking, but he wasn't frail at all. You could push him around, but it wouldn't be easy to break him. That's how he returned to McKinley. That's how he allowed himself to be crowned prom queen; how he strode back to school, scarred and bruised; he couldn't be broken. Sticks and stones.

There was virtually nothing from which Kurt could not recover. And Dave wished he could have just an ounce of that courage and resilience.

"Didn't you just say that you wanted to talk?"

Kurt's soft voice brought him out of his reverie, and Dave swallowed the lump in his throat. Hands still shaking slightly, he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the cement between them. Kurt glanced down at it, and his lips parted in surprise.

It was the cake topper, the bride and groom figurines that Dave had taken from him last year. The cake topper that should've gone on top of Burt Hummel's and Carole Hudson's wedding cake. It was pristine and unharmed. Kurt's eyes flew up to Dave, questioning.

"I've been meaning to give it back since... forever. I just never found the right moment."

Kurt tentatively reached for it and stared at it for the longest time.

"It's sort of like a peace offering. I know it doesn't make up for anything. But I really wanted to give it back to you. And to say that I'm sorry."

Dave was surprised at how his voice barely wavered as he spoke, but he knew it wouldn't last long.

"I can't believe you kept it this whole time..." Kurt said. "I-"

"I'm really glad you're getting better."

Kurt's eyes met his for a moment, his face blank, like he was afraid any emotion showing through would scare Dave off. Because this was much more than Dave had probably ever spoken to him, without Kurt practically prying the words out of his mouth. Dave took a shuddering breath and continued.

"I'm so sorry for everything that's happened to you. For what I did, and for everything else."

"It's okay," Kurt said softly.

"And I'm also sorry that I've pushed you away, when you were only trying to help me."

"It's okay, really."

"No, it's not."

After another deep breath, he was still struggling to hold Kurt's gaze.

"I admit it, I'm afraid. I wake up every morning thinking too much about everything, and I carry it with me wherever I go, all day, just heavy on me," he continued, maybe too fast, maybe too intelligible, but he knew that Kurt knew, and he just needed to say it all.

"And I should have never pushed you away the way I did. If only I could've been honest with you, with everyone, especially with myself, maybe I would be okay right now. Maybe I could've made a difference somehow, I don't know how, but I could've tried. And then maybe you would've been okay. Maybe none of this would've happened."

His eyes suddenly became fixated on Kurt's face, on the healing scrapes and cuts, on the paling bruise around his blue eye. Kurt was shaking his head.

"There's no point in torturing yourself over the past," he said gently, unsure, like he didn't really believe that 100%, but it was the right thing to say.

"But the fact that you're telling me this," Kurt continued, before Dave could start going on like a freight train, "I guess it's enough. I don't expect it to be easy, it's never been easy for me, but... I think you've grown a lot, and I think soon, maybe, it will somehow become easier."

"It always seemed so easy for you," Dave said. Kurt made a noise like a breathy laugh, and his lips stretched into a sort of smile.

"It's not. I don't think it ever is. Especially not when stuff like _this_ happens," he said, gesturing toward himself.

"But it gets easier...?" Dave asked, and as soon as the words left his lips, he knew the answer.

"No, I don't think so. Not here. But it sure makes you grow up a lot faster," Kurt said. "And you start to not give a damn about anything."

He directed a very comforting smile at Dave, and it was disarming and encouraging at the same time.

There was a long pause as Dave tried to keep his voice even, rather unsuccessfully.

"There's something else," he started. "Something that took me some time to realize, and it's been overwhelming me for a while now, and if I don't get it out of my system, I feel that I'm going to burst at the seams."

Kurt turned in his seat almost imperceptibly, like a fleeting gesture to encourage Dave to go on.

"It's that I... I can't stop thinking... about you..."

Kurt's eyes widened a little, like he was half expecting it, but at the same time he couldn't believe he was hearing it. And suddenly Dave couldn't look directly at him anymore. His eyes suddenly became fixated on the other boy's elbow.

"All this time I tried to convince myself that I could ignore it, that it was because of my confusion and all these unresolved feelings, but it won't go away," he ranted. "And I'm sorry I'm telling you this now, because you don't need it. Because you don't deserve it. You've been through enough. But I have to."

There was a deafening silence, but Dave was afraid to look up, to see if Kurt was listening, if he was paying any attention at all.

"Kurt, I-" Dave stopped. He couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

Kurt bit his lip and looked genuinely worried.

Dave was paralyzed. He felt he was either going to faint or throw up, and either way he wouldn't live it down. He shuddered as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm trying to say," he choked.

"I do know," Kurt said very gently.

"I think... I love you..."

Kurt didn't speak for a long time, he didn't even look at Dave for a long time, and the desperation growing and pressing at the insides of Dave's chest was too much all of a sudden, and he couldn't contain the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I don't know what to say," Kurt whispered, still not looking at him.

_Please don't say anything_, Dave pleaded silently, angrily wiping away the tears, so frustrated with himself. He didn't feel the relief he had hoped once he said those words. If anything he wanted to die, he wanted something horrible and karmic to happen to him right there and then that would end his existence.

Kurt grabbed his hand, and Dave gave a shuddering gasp. The boy was looking directly into his eyes, a small smile on his lips, his eyes somehow brighter. He looked thoughtful and resolved, like he had managed to gather his thoughts.

"I'm sorry that I don't feel the same way. But I want to thank you, for telling me this, for being so frank with me. Believe it or not, it means the world to me that you would feel this way about me."

Dave nodded heavily. The weight in his chest got a bit lighter all of a sudden, and his desire to disappear dwindled. He looked into the blackened blue eyes, no longer deep with sorrow or pain, but brightening somehow, and he realized why he felt this way about him. It was admiration and regret and love all bundled up in a stinging lump in his throat.

The only thing left for him was to let him go.

"I have to go," Kurt said apologetically, standing up slowly.

"David, thank you."

Kurt leaned down slowly, a little hesitant, but Dave was frozen in place, and he waited, he braced himself to feel Kurt brush his lips over his cheek, a light hand on his shoulder, and a warmth spread from the place where he kissed him. He shut his eyes when the warmth forced more tears out, and felt a sudden cold when Kurt stepped back and the fingers left his shoulder. With a shy smile, the smaller boy turned and walked away slowly.

* * *

><p>Melrose was now climbing down the steps, and she stopped right next to Dave, on the step right above him, so that they were almost eye to eye when he finally stood up.<p>

"How do you feel?" she asked. Dave sighed.

"Like I just got shot down."

Melrose smiled and shrugged. "Happens to the best of us," she said. "But don't you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders?"

"Well," he said, "when I stop feeling like a giant foot has been stepping on my chest and crushing my heart, I'm sure I'll feel that too."

"I'm so sorry," she said, but she was grinning like a cheshire cat.

"Yeah, you look very sorry," he said sarcastically. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because I'm proud of you," she said gleefully. "Not in a million years could I have ever imagined that you would do what you just did. It takes so much courage to confess to someone that you love, especially knowing that you're going to probably get your heart broken. And it's amazing. You're a lot more amazing than you think."

"It doesn't exactly feel amazing," he said flatly.

"Well, 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. Isn't that, like, a universal truth?"

"I guess."

"And think of this as a step toward accepting yourself more, and realizing that, in spite of everything, you can be happy," she said, a little more seriously now. "You deserve to be happy."

Dave nodded and sniffed. "It's hard," he said breathlessly.

"Of course it's hard," she said, watching him carefully. "Come here," she pulled him into a hug, and he felt some of the tension ebbing away slowly. He suddenly thought of her and hot tea in her apartment and he started to feel much better. Thought not entirely.

She let him go. "You know, sometimes you're like a big teddy bear. I guess you're not as badass as you probably think you are."

"I could say the same thing about you," he joked. She smiled.

"Yeah, you're right," she shrugged dismissively. Still smiling, she climbed the rest of the way down, and started heading for her car, where Kurt and Terry were waiting. Dave stood there for a moment, willing himself to move. Melrose stopped and turned.

"Hey," she called, "you're going to be okay."

It wasn't a statement really, not something that she wanted to convince him of. It was more like a prediction. Dave smiled back. He wanted to say thank you, but he didn't have the strength. If she turned out to be right about that, he'd find a way to thank her later.

* * *

><p>On Wednesday, Tina, Mike and Brittany were doing some sort of indian rain dance around New Directions' brand new Sectionals trophy, while Mercedes, Santana and Rachel were somehow amicably gushing about last night's killer performances. Blaine and Quinn were watching as Sam and Kurt tried to figure out a song on the ukulele, and everyone else was just being boisterous.<p>

"Well, look at you, kids, all sparkly and shiny and gushy after your magnanimous win," someone said from the doorway. Kurt turned, a little surprised to see Melrose there.

"Melrose!" Puck exclaimed, and he would've shot down the steps toward her, if Lauren hadn't stopped him by the back of his t-shirt.

"Hey!" Kurt said, putting down the ukulele and approaching her, pulling her into a hug. Terry, Burt and Carole suddenly appeared on the doorway behind her.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were on the way to the airport! I can't do another tearful goodbye!" Kurt said.

"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to all of you yesterday," Melrose said, "so I thought I'd stop here on the way to the airport and do it."

This time, Lauren was unable to stop Puck from launching himself down the steps and scooping Melrose up and swinging her around a little bit, to which Terry just cocked an eyebrow and looked a little miffed.

"We're gonna miss you so much!"

"Why don't you just replace that Mrs. Brown forever? She sucks!"

"Who's gonna invite us to pizza after rehearsals now?"

Melrose was going around hugging everyone, even Finn, and finally Will. He whispered 'good luck, Holly Golightly' in her ear, and she pulled away, smiling and shaking her head.

"You're never letting me live that down, are you?"

"I don't think so. Give me your e-mail so I can write you about it all the time," he joked.

Terry hugged them all too, thanking them for "Drops of Jupiter". "It was amazing, just amazing," he kept saying.

"You guys were amazing last night. I just hope you know how lucky you all are to be where you are. I wish my Glee club had been half as good as yours," Melrose said.

"There was a Glee club here before ours?" Brittany asked.

"Yes, Brit, as we've said numerous times," Melrose reiterated. "I think you're all really making a difference. Maybe you don't know it yet, but eventually you will."

Will watched her proudly. Everyone had grown in the past three months, but none as much as she had, and she wasn't even an official member.

"We have to go. Jack is in the car, and I think he's figured out how to get out of his kennel," she said. "He's likely to pee all over our luggage."

Melrose and Terry followed Burt and Carole down the hallway. Kurt glanced at Will for a moment, silently asking for permission, before going after them.

"Still time to change your mind," he said. "Thanksgiving and Christmas?"

"Come on, Kurt, we've talked about this. I have to do this," Melrose replied.

"It would be so wonderful if you could spend at least Thanksgiving with us. Burt has found the most amazing-sounding recipe for the turkey," Carole said.

"And Carole's yams are legendary," Burt said.

"And Finn does an amazing show of pretending he's in a pie-eating contest and disappearing all the pumpkin pies."

"Have you ever celebrated Thanksgiving, Terry? It's like pretending to be hibernating animals."

Terry laughed and Melrose looked freaked out.

"What a charming picture," she said.

"Are you sure you can't stay until after Thanksgiving?" Carole asked again.

Melrose shook her head. "Oh, Carole, if I don't go now, I'll never want to leave," she said sadly. "You're the best pretend mom anyone could ever ask for."

"Oh that's so sweet," Carole pouted.

"Maybe some other time? Maybe for Christmas, or Easter, or the Superbowl?" Burt offered.

"You got it, papa Burt," Melrose said. They stepped out onto the front of the building, at the top of the steps. Burt turned to Melrose and Terry.

"So you better invite us to the wedding when it eventually happens. You'll need someone to walk you down the aisle," he said casually. Melrose's smile faltered.

"I can't ask you that. Why would you want to fly halfway across the world for a wedding?"

Kurt knew what this was about. Melrose still felt guilty about all the things she missed, including Burt's wedding.

"Hey, I've always wanted to see Paris. That could be an awesome second honeymoon, right Carole?"

Carole rolled her eyes. Burt looked at Melrose and became a little more serious, because he sensed what Kurt sensed.

"Mel, come on... you'll always be like a daughter to me," he started. "You had my son's back when he was a kid without a mother. You don't just let go of people like that. And you don't miss out on your kid's wedding if you can help it."

Melrose seemed to be trying to contain tears

"Oh I can't do this again," she said. "And you're probably going to say something equally touching at the airport, aren't you? Are you trying to get me to cry?"

Burt chuckled, heading for the car, an arm wrapped tightly around Carole's shoulders.

Kurt and Melrose faced each other.

"You know, Fluffy? That black eye is really starting to suit you. Kind of a nice badass look on you."

Kurt laughed, but it was a sad laugh.

"Do you really have to leave now?" he asked.

Melrose pouted. "Please stop asking me that."

She glanced at Terry, who lingered around the handrail, waiting for them to say their goodbyes again. "Listen," Melrose started. "I know your heart's set on New York. I know you and Blaine talked about it, and you talked to Rachel about it, and I know papa Burt is happy with it too. And I'm thrilled and I support it 100%. I think you can be amazing out there, and you're probably going to be very happy from now on." She let out a long breath. "But I wouldn't mind if you considered Paris too."

Kurt bit his lip and snickered. Melrose shrugged dismissively.

"I know it's a stretch. It's across the ocean and not cheap at all. But I wouldn't mind if you ever wanted to visit. I think I can make some room for you. _Mi casa es su casa_."

"You don't have to ask me twice," he answered straight away. "I'll be there for your wedding, your bachelorette party, your first anniversary, your first kid, and then his or her first birthday, et cetera. I'm sorry, Mel, but you shouldn't have said anything. Now you won't be able to get rid of me."

Melrose smiled brightly, and a tear glistened in the corner of her eye. That sounded exactly like the Kurt she had always known.

"Fluffy, what am I gonna do without you?"

Kurt sighed. "The same thing I will be doing. Continue to be fabulous and wonderful and just hold your breath until we meet again."

* * *

><p>"Are you okay?"<p>

As soon as Kurt stepped back into the choir room, and sat down beside Blaine, his boyfriend watched him with concern. Kurt smiled.

"Of course," he replied. "I'm going to be okay."

Blaine smiled back, and grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers, and they watched Quinn sing and Sam play the guitar for a gentle rendition of 'Moon river and me'.

* * *

><p>That day, classes ended earlier, for the Thanksgiving weekend break.<p>

As soon as the dismissal bell rang, the hallways were flooded with people eager for the long weekend ahead. It was unusually loud and animated.

Dave dropped off a few books at his locker and walked toward the exit, feeling relieved. He so badly needed a break. He needed time.

Outside, he looked around the parking lot and spotted Kurt. The arm cast and a few of the bruises were still there, but the grimness on his face was gone. Kurt now looked as happy, or maybe happier than he had before the attack. He and Blaine walked together toward Blaine's car, but stopped on the way and shared a kiss, as if no one was looking.

He tried to look away, he really did. But his mind still enjoyed torture, apparently.

He recalled his conversation with Melrose. He remembered how honest and sympathetic she had been, even when no one else was showing him any sympathy. He wished he had been more vocal about what he was feeling, so hopefully she would've advised him more precisely on how to cope with everything. But she understood, even when he didn't, and she had listened. And that alone made him feel better.

Dave figured one day, hopefully, he would get over Kurt, and he would be fine.

He figured one day he would stop having something to hide, and his life would start looking up again. He'd have a true chance at finding happiness, and feeling accepted and supported. He'd have a a hard time, he'd likely get a lot of grief from a lot of people, he was certain of it, but he would start feeling like it was somehow worth it.

In the meantime, every time he watched Kurt hold his boyfriend's hand and smile like a thousand suns, his heart would continue to break a little.

* * *

><p>FIN<p>

* * *

><p><em>And so it ends.<em>

_Thank you so much for your time._

_-Valentina_


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